Exclusive
by tyrells
Summary: Claire always knew there was more to Cam, but when he brings her home for his best friend's wedding in Westchester, it was nothing she could have ever prepared for. Exclusive clubs & million dollar homes, gossip & lies, conniving mothers & beautiful exes out to break them up, can Claire rise to the occasion? Or is his world too much ...and Cam's not right for her after all?
1. Best Man and Plus One

**Title:** Exclusive  
**Pairing:** Cam/Claire, Massie/Derrick, hints of Cam/old relationships  
**Rating: **K+  
**Warnings:** Alcohol use, alternate universe, and language.  
**Disclaimer:** "The Clique" and "Crazy Rich Asians" are the property of Lisi Harrison and Alloy Entertainment and Kevin Kwan and Anchor Books, respectively. This is a work of fanfiction and written _for fun_, not profit. No copyright infringement intended.  
**Summary:** Claire Lyons always thought that her boyfriend Cam Fisher was too good to be true, but when Cam brings her home for his best friend's wedding and introduces her to his friends and family in Westchester, it was nothing she could have ever prepared for. Exclusive country clubs and million dollar homes, gossip and lies, conniving mother-in-laws and beautiful ex-girlfriend's out to break them up, can Claire rise to the occasion? …Or is his world _too much_ …and Cam's not right for her after all?

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**Author's Note:**_ I do not ship Massie/Cam, so there won't be any of that (but other stuff might be fair game). And I also thought with this plotline, it'd be too much. LOL. But once again, the PC and BB _parents_ play a big role in this. You'll get some chapters featuring them. Sorry! Can't be helped in stories like these, apparently. Lots of exposition in this prologue because it's introducing the world. I know it's a bore, but I promise romance and drama to come._..

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**Prologue: Best Man, Plus One**

##

In Westchester, there were two kinds of rich people: those who had money and those who had wealth. The difference between the two were not only visible in the cars they drove, the clothes they wore, and the houses they lived in, but in the people they surrounded themselves with. For the truly wealthy, surrounding yourself with the people of your class was habitual. It also meant certain etiquette was expected on Sunday mornings.

Regardless of whether you were up all night clubbing in Manhattan or exhausted from jetlag after a trip from Europe… if you were in town, you showed up to the mother-daughter events, where the ladies and their daughters from the most elite families met to play croquet, pretend nibble of prosciutto, and most importantly, gossip before finally sitting down together for brunch.

Missing out on brunch _was_ missing out. Not only on valuable information like which new stocks to invest in and which to short for the week from Mrs. Hurley (whose husband was a prominent rising stockbroker) or new trends before they _were_ trends from Mrs. Marvil (whose marriage excused her talk show persona). It was more than that though; you missed out on the latest gossip, spectacles, drama, and _scandals_.

And sometimes, if you didn't show, you _were_ the scandal.

Brunch was hosted weekly at the Ridgeway Country Club, where there stood a nine year waiting list for membership, _if_ you had the money. Only the most exclusive families were pre-invited, with approval required by an official membership board. The older generation sat at over the outer patio overlooking the spacious grounds and hills, sipping sangrias and chattering softly, as their daughters participated in a croquet match.

Massie Alana Block was in the lead today.

As the only daughter of well known investment banker William Block and great-granddaughter of Alfred Royden Block, who had amassed a fortune through investing and constructing railroads in the early 20th century, Massie stood as the uncontested head of the clique in her generation. (The Block name could be still found branded along most American railways today, if one cared to look.) When presented as the subject of gossip, the name was worthy of being referenced to as '_Yes, _those_ Blocks_.' And while, some of her friends had her beat in terms of money (Alicia Rivera), others in terms of fame (Dylan Marvil), and others in terms of lineage (Kristen Gregory), the girls all still deferred to her. With her recent engagement to Derrick Harrington, marking her as a soon to be double heiress to _two_ massive fortunes, Massie's had a full score in terms of wealth, lineage, and now marriage.

And today, she had news to share.

Unbuttoning her Michael Kors polo blazer to allow for more movement, Massie swung her mallet and shot a triumphant smile at her friends over her score. Alicia (only daughter of famous model Nadia and distant descendant of a long line of oil tycoons back in Spain) scowled in response as she stepped up for her turn. Kristen (actual descendant of Jean Van Dosso, whose notable paintings still hang in Buckingham Palace, as her mother was fond of mentioning at every Westchester event) released a long suffering sigh.

Dylan (descendant of gunpowder billionaire David Johnson and _yes_, daughter of Daily Grind's Merri-Lee Marvil), off at the sidelines closest to their parents, rolled her eyes. She was the only one in their group who didn't take croquet seriously. She treated their games as a joke, usually goofing off or aiming to target a specific person depending on her mood. Personally and not so secretly, it was because she never had a knack for it.

As Alicia took her time deliberating her move, Massie decided it was the perfect time to share her gossip.

"So…" she threw out nonchalantly, lightly twirling her mallet. "Derrick's decided on his best man for the wedding."

The other girls perked up. Kristen straightened up and Dylan fixed her hat to better shield her fair skin from the sun.

"Who is it?" Alicia asked carelessly, still deliberating her move.

Massie waited a beat before saying, "Cam Fisher."

At that, all three heads snapped in her direction. Cam Fisher was notorious in their circles.

The Fisher family was also one of the more notable families, a staple of America history with their lead in the car production enterprise, but what was more notable about them around the _Westchester circles_ was the recent scandal they suffered only a few years back. Oldest son, heartthrob, and heir, Harris Fisher made national news for his exploits at Brown University.

While all could have been salvaged with a hefty sum and a expansive new wing, Harris declined his family legacy there and dropped out school. And after tarnishing the family name all throughout Europe for a year, he sealed his own disinheritance by forsaking the family business and moving across the world to settle down in Italy with a _man_. Matthew Fisher was angry at his own son's condemnation on air about their company's wide scale production labors and their effect on the environment. Ella Fisher was more devastated over the notion of no grandchildren. _Both_ were infinitely more upset at the spectacle Harris made of them in Westchester.

And with that, Cam Fisher became the heir. Dark hair, mismatched eyes, brooding looks, and a massive empire behind him, Cam Fisher was just about the most desirable guy in Westchester (now that Harris was off the market). To top it off, he was in their year and hung around their circles. But like his brother, Cam seemed to be on the border of turning down his family legacy too. He never visited from college, unlike the rest of them, and seemed to have moved on from Westchester for good.

Knowing that he was coming _back_ for Derrick's wedding meant _great_ things for the girls (who were all mostly single) standing there on the grassy field at the Ridgeway this particular morning.

Dead silence surrounded Massie at her pronouncement. And she wasn't even done.

_Guess who was getting a trillion gossip points for this next tidbit? _"And that's not all," Massie sang, biting down on her smile. The girls stared at her incredulously, their minds spinning to catch up with this news and already formulating plans (and in Dylan's case wedding scenarios). What other news could there be, their faces asked.

"He has a plus one," Massie finished, knowing she had basically shot their hopes into pieces.

"_No_!" Dylan gasped, as if this was something scandalous. And in the world of Westchester, it was. Cam hadn't been back for years and the only reason he would have for bringing home a girl no one even knew about to his childhood best friend's wedding… was if it was serious… was if it meant something.

Was if he was planning to introduce her to the family.

Was if he was planning to _propose _sometime soon the future.

"Do you know who she is?" Alicia asked instantly. "Name? Schooling? Family?"

Massie shrugged. Since _her_ relationship was secured, she wasn't as devastated by the news of another acceptable guy from their circles taken off the market as her friends. "A girl named Claire Lyons, apparently."

"Who?" Kristen asked, brow furrowed. She turned to Alicia. "Have we heard of her?"

"No," Massie answered for her. "No, I've never heard of her."

The girls understood instantly that it wasn't just that no one had even heard that Cam Fisher dating, but that it meant that this girl… was a _nobody_. And despite the devastation of the news, the girls all exchanged half shocked, half devious looks.

"…Does Mrs. Fisher know about this?" Kristen asked, fighting down her shocked smile.

Massie glanced over at the upper crust ladies laughing lightly above the patio reserved just for them. She turned back to her friends and shook her head lightly. All the girls felt a thrill of sinful delight rush over them. They were experiencing and firsthand witnesses to another classic Westchester scandal. They bit their lips and covered their glossed lips to keep from bursting into laughter.

"Who's going to tell her?" Dylan asked in a hushed voice.

Knowing whoever brought her the news would likely gain favor from Mrs. Fisher, Massie decided to let one her friends take this one. She smirked at them, grabbing her sangria off a country club worker's Lucite tray standing nearby. She took a sip. "I'm already in the lead, but 2nd place gets to break the news," she gestured at the wickets embedded in the grass.

Alicia and Kristen instantly straightened back up. Now there was more than pride in winning the weekly match, there was a boy on the line. Dylan, on the other hand, groaned out loud.

"That is _so_ unfair!" she cried, watching Alicia get back into position, readying to swing with an intense expression on her face. Kristen was already moving over to another country club worker waiting on them. This one was their regular score keeper, frantically calculating Alicia's new move. Kristen leaned over and watched as he jolted down her score.

Massie patted Dylan sympathetically on the back, though there was a teasing smile on her lips. Once Mrs. Fisher was told, shit was going down. There was no doubt about it. With her older son's recent scandal, there was no way she would tolerate another one from her younger one. And with Westchester's emphasis on old money and bloodlines, this would most definitely be a scandal.

But it wasn't just _that_, there were even girls outside their social circles (but had still attended OCD with them) that wouldn't take kindly to an _outsider_ snagging a guy like Cam Fisher.

Alicia swung again, scoring enough points to put her in the lead above Massie now. Dylan gripped her mallet tightly in anger, Kristen bit her lip.

The game was on.

##

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**Author's Notes:** …In a world where Fisher, Block, and Rivera equate to Vanderbilt, Rockefeller, and Trump.

LOL. So I really missed writing about the luxe life of the girls after Revenge. And Wicked Games is killing me. I have about 3600 wrds written, but I'm very unhappy with it. And I was reading _Crazy Rich Asians_ and was like, _perfect_, the clique is so great because anything is applicable. So, this is inspired by literally every single Asian drama I've ever watched. No really. Korean, Japanese, Chinese. Every kind. Also, the _richkidsofinstagram_ tumblr. Check it out. I am constantly amazed.

It's the classic "poor girl in rich boy's world" trope complete with classic evil mother-in-law and her waiting ladies/minions. Only this time, we have the clique thrown in. _It's nothing original_, JUST FOR FUN.

Review if you like?


	2. The Big Apple and Blueberries

**Author's Note:** Revenge was all Claire's story, with all the focus on hurt and vengeance. Exclusive, though, is both Cam and Claire's, allowing me more room to develop their romance. If you're reading this mostly for Massington, sorry. Clam is the main focus. And yes, this will mostly include fluff. Sorry if it's not your cup of tea!

I wanted you guys to see how their lives are together _before_ Claire is thrown into the world of Westchester. As someone who's been in a relationship for over 4 years now, what _really_ makes relationships is not the fluff, but the trials and drama and the things you go through together. Clam right now is written basically perfect because they're in their own little world. They'll have a journey and problems, but this _is_ listed as a romance. **So fluff warning, starting now and for future chapters too**! And for the record, Aurora was one of my faves as a child, no hate intended.

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**Chapter One: The Big Apple and Blueberries**

##

Claire Lyons woke to the sounds of her boyfriend's voice drifting from their kitchen. Rolling over and squinting slightly from the bright sunlight streaming through Cam's bedroom window, Claire rubbed a hand over her face. Her cell phone read seven in the morning, an unreasonable time for both of them to be up. She wondered who Cam was talking to so early in the morning.

Claire continued to lie in bed, rubbing her face up against the comforter, burrowing deeper under the blankets, too lazy to get up. Cam wasn't long at all; it seemed his phone call was wrapping up. He entered her room quietly in fear of waking her, but when he saw that she was already up, he grinned slowly. Cam loved everything about his girlfriend in the morning, the way her long blonde hair looked so disheveled, reminding him of the night before, the way she wrinkled her nose in frustration at the morning light, and the slow sleepy smile she gave him when she opened her eyes.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," he whispered, sliding into bed next to her.

Claire groaned out loud, swatting him with her eyes still closed. "_Ew_, I told you never to call me that."

"I can't help it," Cam murmured in her ear insolently. "It's what comes to mind whenever I see you in the morning."

"That's awful," she murmured back sleepily, turning in his arms to burrow into the crook of his neck. "You know, Sleeping Beauty is my least favorite Disney Princess. She's sheltered and coddled and falls in love with the first guy she sees before falling into cursed slumber for the rest of the plotline."

"Yeah," her annoying boyfriend smirked above her head. "Isn't that you? Minus the cursed slumber, I mean. But blonde, sheltered, and falling in love with the first guy thing—"

Claire whacked him over the head with her pillow. Cam laughed, ripping away her weapon and flinging it across the room out of her reach. He gripped her chin and kissed her. Claire sighed and kissed him back, but broke off to yawn. She laughed and Cam rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

Stretching her arms above her head and arching her back, Claire's curiosity got the better of her. "Who were you talking to this morning?" she asked when she reopened her eyes.

"Derrick," Cam told her. He sat up and swung his feet to the ground. To Claire, he seemed rather nervous, which rarely ever happened. Claire sat up too, in curiosity. She didn't pry though; Cam would tell her if he wanted to share. Her boyfriend so rarely talked about his childhood, but she had heard of Derrick Harrington, who he had been friends with since childhood, a handful of times before. They still caught up with each frequently, but Claire had never met him. Cam turned to look at her over his shoulder and smiled ruefully. "He's getting married."

"Really?" Claire tilted her head. "That's happy news."

"Yeah," Cam grinned, elation for his friend showing on his face. "Yeah, it's kind of weird though, but good for him too, you know?"

Claire nodded. She tried to imagine any of her friends getting married. It did seem weird. The only people she knew their age that were married were distant friends from her old middle school who she never talked to anymore. The only reason she knew was through Facebook, so she understood completely what he meant.

Cam turned to face her on the bed and Claire stared into his mismatched eyes in confusion at his intensity. "He, uh, asked me to be his best man," Cam told her.

Claire's eyes widened and she grinned. "Wow. That sounds great!" But when Cam didn't return her enthusiasm, she frowned. "…Or is that bad news…?"

"No," Cam chuckled lightly. "I kind of thought that he would ask when I first heard that he was getting married, but…" It was his tone that told her something was wrong. She didn't think that she had ever seen her boyfriend so sober. Cam wrapped his arms around her and though he grinned, Claire knew he was still serious. He licked his lips before speaking. "But… I was wondering if you'd like to come too," he finished.

Claire blinked, her mouth opening in surprise. That wasn't at all what she was expecting. "Wait, like… to the wedding?"

"Yeah," Cam shrugged lightly. "Why not?" He nuzzled her neck, sending goose bumps down her arms. "Best man duties means I'd have to be there for more than the wedding. There's fittings and rehearsals and—"

"Bachelor parties?" Claire joked with a raised brow, though her mind still hadn't really caught up to what Cam was asking of her.

"Right, those too," her boyfriend nodded with a smarmy grin on his face. Claire fake scowled at him. "…And I'd have to be there for all that… I'd be gone for more than a month. Knowing my mother, she'd want me to stay for a while… so why don't you come with me?"

Claire leaned back to look up at him incredulously. "Come with you to New York? For a more than a month? …But Cam, what about work? And Amy's gallery is opening next week and—"

Cam shook his head fondly at his girlfriend. "Claire, you're a free lance photographer. You're your own boss and even if you weren't, you'd have about a year of leave." Brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, he rolled his eyes at her again good-naturedly. "And Amy even _told_ you she didn't need your help, that she had it all under control. If she knew about this, she'd probably drive us to the airport herself. When was the last time you took a vacation? When was the last time you even took a day off? And doesn't your friend from college Layne live in New York too? You could visit her while we're there. And yeah, there's the wedding, sure, but I'd be free most of the time too. You—_we_—can experience New York."

And while Claire still thought that it was outrageous for her to take a whole month off to go to _New York_ with Cam, she couldn't help but imagine them strolling the streets of the Big Apple together, taking pictures at Times Square, visiting art galleries in Brooklyn, eating New York Style pizza and drinking coffee in Soho. Her heart beat just a little bit faster. She'd never been, but it was practically every artist's dream.

Claire bit her lip, still a bit hesitant. "A month though—"

"Maybe more," Cam corrected. His earlier sobriety was gone, his face was animated and his eyes glowed with excitement. It was contagious. "After the wedding, if we haven't had our fill, we can spend time together in the city, just us."

Claire's heart beat faster at the romantic notion. "I—Are you sure about this, Cam?" Her boyfriend was such a private person, and though they'd been dating for almost two years now and she practically lived at his place, it wasn't official _official_. She still had her own flat with a roommate named Amy. And they had never entertained the notion of spending a whole month together on a romantic getaway before.

Did Cam know what this meant? Inviting her to a wedding of his childhood friend's, in his hometown?

Cam didn't even hesitate. And Claire wondered if it was because he wasn't taking this as seriously as she was. But no, it couldn't be, because she knew Cam. He was probably _more_ of a romantic at heart than she was. He wouldn't be inviting her if he hadn't thought this through. And from his tone and posture and anxiety earlier, it seemed that this had been on his mind for a while now. "_Yes_, Claire. Yes, I'm sure."

He gripped her hands, rubbing his thumbs soothingly over the back of her hands. "I want you to meet my friends... They'd love you. My parents—everyone would. Come on, let me show you my hometown. Where I grew up, the places I hung out at, and—"

"Your childhood bedroom?" Claire interrupted jokingly, feeling her heart soar at the invitation. She was never a pusher, she never pried, but she had always wondered about Cam's childhood.

"Yeah," Cam laughed brightly. He knew he had his answer now.

Claire tilted her head, still pretending to deliberate, then arched her brow, "The spot near the lake at the country club where you lost your virginity?"

Her boyfriend tugged her closer and whispered into her ear even though there were alone in his apartment. He wiggled his own eyebrows. "Definitely. We can stage a reenactment."

"Classy," Claire laughed, shoving him away.

Cam flopped down onto the bed with a shit eating grin. He pulled her down with him and Claire sprawled out next to him, her mind still whirling. She had never even realized she knew so little about where Cam had grown up or what his life had been like before college until right now.

But now he was extending an invitation for her to see and experience it all first hand.

Claire turned her head and stared at her boyfriend. Claire knew that if she accepted, she wasn't _just_ agreeing to a vacation. Cam was opening up to her, inviting her as his date to his best friend's wedding, introducing her to his _family_. Cam might not even _mean_ what she was thinking he meant… that this was another step towards… well… the next step. But Claire knew that if she accepted, _she_ was getting in deeper.

Claire brushed Cam's dark hair away from his forehead and leaned in so their foreheads were almost touching. She thought about it, about _him_. The way he looked on stage at their local coffee shop shows, strumming his guitar and dedicating his songs to her, the way he always seemed to fall asleep before the ending during their at-home movie nights, the way he licked his lips when he was nervous and the way he looked at her when she woke up in the morning.

She loved it. She loved _him_. She wanted it to continue. The only way was forward. There was only one answer.

"Okay," Claire whispered softly. A giddy laugh burst from her lips. "Yeah… _Yeah_, why not? Let's do this. Let's go to New York!"

Cam wrapped his arms around her and kissed her breathless in response.

##

"Wait, so you're finally taking me up on my offer and coming to visit me?!"

Her best friend squealed so loudly, Claire had to pull the phone away from her ear. After a round of excited lovemaking, Cam had headed out to pick them up some breakfast and Claire had taken the opportunity to call her old friend, Layne Abeley. They had both met in the same art class at the Institute of Chicago, and had become instant friends. But after graduation, Layne had moved back to New York, where she had been born and bred, to launch her own art charity, while Claire had stayed in Chicago after falling in love with the city.

"Yes," Claire laughed. "Well, no. Cam's the one who really convinced me. He wants me to be his date at his best friend's wedding."

"Oh my god," Layne gasped.

"No, Layne, stop," Claire rolled her eyes. "It's not what you think."

"Isn't it?" her friend asked her briskly. "I didn't even know you guys were that serious. I'm so out of the loop. And now you're flying to another state with him for his best friend's wedding? Are you meeting his parents too?"

Claire let the silence answer that.

"Claire!" Layne cried. "How are you not freaking out right now? This obviously means that things are getting serious—"

"It doesn't mean anything," Claire interrupted her glumly. But in all honestly, she wasn't even one hundred percent sure if it didn't. "You're blowing this way out of proportion. He just thought I needed a vacation and that it'd be great for me to catch up with you too."

"Sure," Layne said sarcastically. Claire didn't take offense; she knew her friend was just teasing. "You keep telling yourself that, Claire. I know you think Cam's all hipster or whatever, but he's a huge softy. It's nauseating watching the two of you together. This trip means something. To the both of you. So, ugh, gross. You guys are way too immature to get marr—"

As excited as Claire was at knowing the thoughts she had dreamed were validated, Claire wouldn't get her hopes up. She had never even entertained the notion of marriage with Cam. She cut off her friend. "Layne, stop!" she cried, feeling amused. "No one is getting married. Except his friend, I mean."

"Speaking of which, how well do you know this friend? Have you ever met him before?"

Claire leaned back against Cam's pillows and made a noise. "He's Cam's best friend since childhood. He mentions him a lot, but I've never met him, no."

"I can't believe you don't see what a big deal is." Claire could practically visualize her friend rolling her eyes in aggravation. "Jesus! Claire, this is like, the ultimate test. How do you not see this? ...So, where are you guys staying? At a hotel or oh my god, at his parents place?"

"Oh, I haven't even thought about that," she muttered, sinking down so that she was once again buried under blankets. "At a hotel, maybe?"

"Wait, where is his hometown again?" Layne asked. "Have you ever even told me before? I can't even remember. Is it far from the city?"

Claire furrowed her brow. Cam had always referred to it at New York, but she wracked her brain for more specifics. "I think it's, like, West Chester County or something. …I'm pretty sure."

"Westchester County, you mean?" Layne asked incredulously. "_Seriously_?"

"Yeah, that's it," Claire confirmed, staring at Cam's ceiling, wondering what was taking him so long. The coffee shop where they picked up their usual bagels were only a few blocks away. "Why?" she asked absentmindedly.

"Cause that's like Land of Trust Fund Brats," her friend replied.

Claire barely heard. Speak of the devil; Claire heard the jiggle of keys, signaling her boyfriend's return. She regretted leaving Layne so soon after calling her, but she was starving. She rolled out of bed, preparing to wrap up her call.

"What was this childhood friend's name of Cam's again?" Layne asked slowly.

"Uhm… Derrick," she answered. "Sorry, Layne, I gotta go, but I'll call you back as soon as I figure out the plan, okay?"

"Okay… Yeah, sure, sounds good. But wait, Derrick what, do you know?" Layne asked before she could say her goodbyes.

Claire blinked in confusion. "Derrick… Harrington? I think?" She shrugged. "Yeah, that sounds right. Anyways, sorry, Layne. Cam's brought Kaufman's and you know how I get over Kaufman's. I'll talk to you soon though."

"Yes, I do know how you get over Kaufman's," Layne sounded like she wanted to say more, but she stopped herself. "Alright. Call me when you have more details!"

"Will do. Bye!" Claire hung up with a smile and tossed her phone back onto Cam's bed, the smell of blueberry bagels drawing her out to the living room.

##

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**Author's Note:** Thank you so much **lydiamartins**,** psychotic honeybadger of death**, **in perpetuum**, **outside of the crayon box**, and** twizzler addict **for the reviews, you guys. Most questions will be answered very soon. Thanks for keeping in mind how AU this is. I'll expand more. But no really, thank you, the prologue was all exposition and background and must have been so boring, but I'm glad you let me know your thoughts! It's inspired me to write more. Next chapter is parents, I'm thinking.

Review if you like?


	3. Gossip and Truth

**Author's Note:** Sorry this took so long! I've had intense few weeks. Ear infection, ick and then my mother was in the hospital and then recovery. So, I've been out of town helping out. I barely had any time to write. Or any inspiration. Anyways, my flow is finally back. So, yay! Here is a look at the Clique parents... ish. And life in Westchester. Yes, those are tones of racism you're reading in Ella Fisher's POV. She is definitely** not** a nice person.

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**Chapter Two: Gossip and Truth**

##

It was well known around the world that US attorney Len Rivera made his first fortune the _dirty_ way through the unjust persecution of a rival banking company in the late 80s, but in the past decade, his wife Nadia Rivera's good work around the world for numerous notable charities like March of Dimes, New Hope, the CHA Inc., and Miracles in Sight, along with colossal donations to the right places, have worked to revive the Rivera name in Westchester.

It also helped that the Nadia was richer than most of Westchester's ladies combined, some great great great grandfather or something of hers struck oil back in Spain. Almost everyone overlooked her husband's faults in light of the knowledge that she was practically royalty in her home country.

Still, Ella Fisher could barely stomach their interactions. Despite all their wealth, or maybe because of it, the Riveras were so… _tacky_. For decorum's sake, was just about the only reason Ella Fisher gave Nadia the time of day.

_Shudder-inducing_, Ella thought as she eyed the expansive estate. Set on a hill stretching along the Long Island Sound, the sprawling mansion with its narrow hallways, vaulted ceilings, pointed arched towers, and stained glass windows, was something straight out of a gothic novel. The Rivera mansion could have passed for a cathedral from the Gilded Age, which _would_ have been boast-worthy, if not for the fact that it really wasn't. Tackier still, the Rivera's didn't even live in their mansion. Taking the advice of Len's bodyguards, the Rivera's master bedroom and actual living space was hidden in the pool house for _security_ reasons.

_Where did they think this was? Brooklyn? _

To even reach the side house where Nadia hosted Bible Club when it was her turn, Ella had to either enter through the service kitchen and leave smelling like Spanish cuisine for the duration of the meeting or take the long way through the Rivera's considerable backyard and subsequent hedge garden.

Adjusting her Dior sunhat, Ella Fisher made her way slowly past the Rivera's rock garden and fish pond. The view would have been considered breathtaking to anyone except her, who resented the route too much to enjoy the beautiful day. By the time Ella made it to Nadia's pool house living area, the Bible Club regulars—Marsha Gregory, Tessa Hurley, Anna Harrington, Jacklyn Ryan, and Kendra Block—were already seated and waiting.

The ladies were all listening to their host guide them through the readings from a study guide (Nadia was only familiar with the King James Bible, since she was raised Catholic), when Marsha (who had set aside her Bible for her _real_ ones: Page Six, the New York Post, and Westchester Magazine) interrupted them. This was another reason why Ella hated Nadia's sessions, Nadia was always so easily distracted. She was quicker than anybody to hunt down pictures of herself and that tramp daughter of hers to brag about, of which there really were many. _See? Tacky_. Nadia, being a former model and socialite, and her daughter, a rising star, were featured frequently.

"Oh Nadia," Marsha cried, flipping the Post over for the other ladies seated around her to see. "Your gala is featured in the Events section!"

Nadia, thrilled, tossed her study guide and Bible onto her side settee and smiled in faux-modesty over the attention. "Is it really? I had no idea that it would make the news."

"Nonsense," Tessa cut in, picking up Westchester Magazine and flipping through it, hunting for news. "Your gala was a huge success. Didn't it break records this year? The most amount of donations received in the history for New Hope, or _any_ charity even!"

Nadia's hand fluttered over the pearls on her neck. "Well, I couldn't have done it without all of _your_ help," she chimed. She glanced over at Kendra and Anna, reading silently from their Bible. "Especially Kendra."

She sniffed. Despite all of her claims of Nadia's tackiness, Ella had to admit that Nadia knew how to play the game. With her daughter's upcoming marriage to the Harrington family, Kendra was the now the one everyone was aiming to please.

Kendra looked up and waved a hand in the air. "Nadia, please, it was nothing."

"Oh, I know I'm not supposed to say, that you asked to be anonymous, but Kendra, your family's check was the one that really helped us beat the record."

Ella pulled the two full page cover of Nadia's gala over to her and scanned the pages. As usual, none of her photos had ended up on the page, despite the family scandal a couple of years back. _Thank goodness_. Ella had struck a deal with the Post and Westchester Magazine that no photos of her or her husband were to appear without her approval. She had gotten the idea from Anna and her family, who would rather die than appear in print. There was a point to being _discreet_, Ella had learned now, after seeing all her family's sordid details splashed across all tabloids.

When Ella tuned back into the conversation, the topic had moved onto the Harrington and Block wedding. A common topic amongst the ladies, since Anna and Kendra were both parents of the couple, and the said wedding was to be _the_ event of the year. The other ladies couldn't get enough.

"Oh you _say_ that, Jackie, but I'm more stressed out than my daughter." Kendra rolled eyes, setting her Bible aside. Like Ella, she seemed to understand that getting anymore read was impossible. "For someone who used to cry if I didn't let her coordinate her outfits by herself at five, Massie is all about unburdening the load onto me and Anna, surprisingly. Now that I think about it, other than the designer of her dress, I don't think she's made a single decision."

"Speaking of children," Marsha, who turned sour whenever the wedding was brought up (mostly because _her_ good-for-nothing daughter hadn't managed to catch the Harrington heir's eye), cut in before anyone could respond. "Ella, when is _your_ son flying in for the wedding? He's the best man, isn't he?"

Ella hid her eye roll at the blatant and obvious attempt. While the Gregorys were prominent in England, in Westchester, Mark Gregory had lost most of his money in a series of failed art sales. In addition to that, Marsha was practically new money. The hopeful glint in Marsha's eyes didn't even register to Ella. There was no way her only heir would fall for someone as transparent as Kristen _Gregory_.

"Oh you know _sons_," Ella complained, now flipping through the Westchester Magazine and spying pictures of Ryan and Dylan Marvil on the Life & Style section. Tessa nodded in complete understanding and Anna in sympathy. "They never share anything with you. I haven't talked to Cameron for almost three weeks. I can barely squeeze any information out of him on the phone before it's 'time for class, gotta go' again. Without a cook, I abhor to even think about how he's eating."

The alarm system of the Rivera's pool house beeped loudly, interrupting them all. The ladies all turned to look as the Rivera's one way mirror that provided a glorious view of the sparkling Rivera pool and immaculate hedge gardens tilted and lumbered up like a garage door and Alicia Rivera slipped inside holding Neiman, Ralph Lauren, and Gucci shopping bags.

"Alicia, baby," Nadia thrilled. She waved Page Six up at her. "You're on the front page. I _told_ you, you made the right choice in going classic by wearing that Dany Tabet."

Nadia's daughter rolled her eyes good-naturedly, dropping her bags by the door for a maid to pick up. She took the offered magazine and admired her picture on the cover. She glanced at the discarded Bibles and smiled politely at the other ladies. "Sorry for the interruption."

"You're never an interruption, dear," Jacklyn told her. She glanced at Ella from the side of her light blue eyes. "We were just talking about your dear friend Cameron."

At the mention of her son, Alicia straightened and covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh, I take it that you've heard."

Ella did not like the glimmer in Alicia's eyes. "Heard what?" she asked, faking nonchalance.

"About his guest?" Alicia asked, her brows raised in seemingly genuine confusion. All the ladies looked shocked at Alicia's question, but none as much as Ella.

"What? What do you mean? What… _guest_?" Ella stressed.

"The guest… that he's bringing to the wedding? As his plus one?" Alicia cast a furtive look at her mother, who looked shocked that Alicia had knowledge of such a tidbit. And also put out that she hadn't shared this with her _sooner_.

Ella felt her heart beating loudly in her ears in anger at the mischievous looks the other ladies were now casting each other. She hated being out of the loop. She hated being part of gossip more. And she hated it _most_ that _Alicia Rivera_ knew more about her son than her. "Plus one? What plus one?"

"His _girlfriend_," Alicia told her, relishing that she was the one to break the news to Ella. It was her hard won victory and despite the flush of anger appearing on Ella's face at the news, Alicia knew that she would be gaining favor with her after this was over.

"No!" Ella exclaimed, fanning herself with Westchester Magazine. "There's no way that Cameron has a girlfriend!" She had never heard any mention ever of any… _girlfriend_ of Cam's in all their talks on the phone.

"Why do you find it so hard to believe that Cameron could have a girlfriend?" Marsha asked. While she was disappointed at the news of Cam, the new heir to all of the Fisher enterprise, being taken when her daughter was still shamefully single, she was also secretly thrilled that she was witnessing Ella's humiliation. There was nothing better than watching someone unravel from their children's escapades.

Nadia nodded in agreement. "Frankly, I'm not surprised at all, Ella. Your son's quite the catch." At those words, she covertly glanced at her daughter, who possessed beauty, charm, and charisma in spades, and apparently a slyness she was only just discovering, that would bring her far. Cameron Fisher, now that he was heir, might be the best prospect Nadia could hope for her daughter.

_Stupid bitches_, Ella thought snidely. Of _course_ she knew how much of a catch her son was. With her eldest son's betrayal, Cameron was the Fisher family's last chance of passing along the family business. Her baby stood to not only gain billions, but control of an entire enterprise as well. She knew exactly how much her son was worth, and it was _more_ than most of these greedy ladies and their up jumped daughters, and certainly more than whomever he was keeping a secret from his own mother.

Ella couldn't even imagine. There must be something really wrong with her for Cameron to try to spare his girlfriend from his own mother.

"What is her name?" she asked after a few calming yoga breaths.

The ladies all turned to Alicia, who seemed to be in the know about it all. "Claire Lyons."

"Lyons?" Jacklyn asked. "Claire Lyons of the _Lyons Motorcars_?"

"From a _rival_ company?" Ella shook her head vigorously. She tossed the magazine away from her and moaned. "Please stop. Are you all trying to give me a stroke? Cameron wouldn't dare."

But then… her precious baby _had_ allowed this news to be sprung on her in the middle of Bible Club, leaving her with no way to dispute it.

"I haven't heard much, but Massie said something about Cam arriving with her soon." Alicia shrugged, tossing her long dark hair over her shoulder. At that news, Ella felt a cold calm overtake her. She eyed Alicia with new eyes. And though, Ella loathed to admit it… With her sultry looks, ample curves, and provocative ways, Alicia would prove an ample adversary to _any_ girl Cameron's age.

And eying the calculating glint in Alicia's eye, Ella found that they probably had a lot in common in terms of what they wanted for her son. And when Cam was free of this Lyons girl, she'd find a way to get rid of Alicia after.

After all, her baby boy deserved no one but the very best.

##

Cam brought it up nonchalantly.

So nonchalantly, in fact, that the words didn't even register in Claire's mind, since she was absorbed in saying goodbye to Chicago as the cab whizzed by the night life. When they finally reached her though, her head snapped to his.

"Wait, _what_?"

Cam licked his lips before repeating himself, a familiar sign that told Claire that he was nervous.

"You're saying… that… _you've_ _never told your parents about me_?" Claire asked, not just for clarification, but for jaded emphasis as well. "Your parents never knew about me? In all this time?"

Claire was never one for dramatics, but she felt that this was really worth repeating. She and Cam had been dating for almost over two years and in all that time, she found it really hard to believe that he never once mentioned her to his parents. He talked to his family on a regular basis. _She_ had told her mom about Cam the moment she came back from their first date.

"Yeah—I mean, no. No, they didn't know. But Claire, you have to understand that it had nothing to do with you or anything like—"

"Well, Cam, it's kind of hard _not_ to take it personally. My mom knows practically everything about you. Amy, all my friends, and even Layne too…"

Cam gripped his girlfriend's hands in his. "Please don't take it that way. I swear it's not you. I just that… I don't really share any of my personal life with my parents."

Claire blinked in confusion. "But they're your parents."

Cam ran a hand through his messy hair in frustration. "It's a bit different in my family. We don't really… share much. My parents are different than most, than yours."

"But…" Claire bit her lip, feeling insanely vulnerable. She didn't know how to take Cam's words. Wasn't she a big part of his life? Wasn't she important enough to at least warrant _one_ mention on the phone? …Or maybe she had _misread_ their whole relationship up until this point?

Cam took Claire in, noticing from the furrow in her brow and the crease in her forehead that she was hurt. Even in her upset state, Cam couldn't stop himself from admiring her with backdrop of the lights from the cab window behind her. Claire's gentle features, natural light blonde hair, and expressive dark blue eyes made up the most simplistic, uncomplicated beauty (so different from fashion-obsessed, makeup-ready girls of his childhood) that sometimes, it took Cam's breathe away.

How did he get so lucky? And how could he have fucked up so badly?

"I swear, Claire, it's nothing against you. Even as a kid… My family never shared anything emotional. It's just the way my family is."

Claire took a deep breath and decided to believe him. Because even if he had never told his parents about her… Cam had now. He was taking her to his home to meet them personally. They were going to New York together.

She tried a weak smile. "Anything else you want to tell me before I hop on a plane and spend a month in a different state with you?"

Cam hesitated. He knew that Claire would need to be prepped about the ways of his family and New York, but how could he possibly explain all of it to her when he had been conditioned his whole life never to speak or brag about his wealth? When he had been trained never to speak of his family to reporters, to the press, to outsiders. He had grown up around people who were exactly like him; there had never been any need to explain anything. People like Derrick and Josh and the boys at his old private school… they _got_ it because they had lived in the same lifestyle. They knew how parents got.

"Well, you should know that it's not just my family that you're meeting. Westchester is a really close community. The people I grew up with in town… have been friends for generations. People are pretty close, so 'family' kind of extends to them too. You're going to be meeting everyone I grew up with too."

This was the most that Cam had ever shared with her about his family, friends, and community. Claire absorbed all that he said. She was coming to realize just the other day that Cam knew almost everything about her, her friends, and her family, whereas she knew nothing about his. But the important thing was that that was all going to change now. Cam was… opening up and letting her in.

The bright lights and high traffic outside signaled to Claire that they were nearing the airport as they car slowed to a stop. Cam held out his hand and Claire didn't hesitate in placing her own in his. As they took their luggage out of the trunk of the cab, Claire fought down a flush of embarrassment. She had let her insecurities get the better of her. …If Cam hadn't told his parents about her, not because of her… then it must be because of _them_. What if Cam was embarrassed about his _family_? Was that part of the reason he never shared anything about them to her either?

As they headed into the airport together, Claire resolved to find a way to let Cam know that there was nothing to be ashamed of. Claire loved him and she was ready to know all of him too.

##

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**Author's Note: **I'm on a binge writing session.

I have another 2000 plus words written of Claire's arrival, but I just decided to cut it here since the tone changes so completely. IDK. Anyways, thank you so much for your continued support, you guys. I'm the worst updater ever, I'm sorry. I haven't even gotten back to any of you guys for all your kind reviews either! Just know that I adore each one and I love you guys so much. Tytytytytytyty.

Review if you like?


	4. Meetings and Plans

**Author's Notes**: Thank you to **charlesxaviers**, **outside the crayon** **box**, **psychotic honeybadger of death**, **lydiamartins**, **kneexsocks**, **riverx**, **lysa**, **amazingxlivexlovexlaughx3**, **cliquelover**, and my 2 **guest** reviewers for your encouraging reviews! Really, thank you so much.

_To my Guest reviewer Number 1_: Since the chapters have been so short recently, I estimate that it will probs be longer than Revenge. Claire's family background will be revealed in the story. Jacklyn just named the first rich company with the last name Lyons that she could think of in that moment. They've just planted the idea of Claire being an heiress from a rival company in Ella's mind to make it worse for her. LOL. And yes, that continues to be part of the story. Thanks for your comments!

_To Cliquelover_: I was debating whether or not to include flashbacks, but since you requested it! I thought, why not? And wrote you a little [longer than necessary] one on how Clam met. I envision future flashbacks coming for sure of Derrick/Cam past friendship [how they became friends], a possible Masise/Derrick [maybe how they met? but only maybe because Clam is the central of this story], and of course, parent flashbacks as well. If you like this format! Because I planned on 2 sections per chapter with frequent updates, but since I'm so bad with this! I might as well write what comes. Please tell me if you like this new format. Thanks for your request and sorry for the delay. Hopefully, the updates will be frequent now that I am home with longer chapters!

* * *

Again, so sorry for the delay. I was on vacation in Vegas and let me just say, wow. But I'm back now with a long chapter for you guys and hopefully updates will be better. [Yes, I know i say this everytime, but I'm trying to mean it this time.]

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**Chapter Three: Meetings and Plans**

##

_**2012 **_

To be completely and utterly honest, Claire Lyons did _not_ fall feet-first, head-over-heels in love with Cam Fisher the moment she met him. In fact, when Layne Abeley, a strange girl from her art class and someone fast becoming one of her best friends, slapped a flyer down on their table at their usual campus coffee spot with her regular energized gusto, Claire was wary.

"What is it?" Claire asked, setting down her coffee to pry the flyer from under Layne's fingers.

But Layne pulled back her hand along with the flyer at the last minute. She clasped the flyer protectively to her chest. "Before you look, I have an announcement to make."

Claire sat back with a surprised blink, but she was sort of used to Layne-speak by now. She pushed her friend's coffee on the table that she had preordered beforehand over to her instead and waited.

"I have found your soulmate."

The declaration was so outlandish… so _Layne_ to Claire that she didn't even falter. "Really now?" she asked with a raised brow.

"I'm serious," Layne stressed, but she finally took her seat and accepted her drink. She dropped the crumpled flyer into her faded brown canvas bag, flipped the cap off her coffee with a clatter, and added a packet of sugar. "This was the second time I've talked to him. He's in my Music Theory class—"

"Which I still don't really understand how and why you're taking. You're an art major—"

"For the girls, obviously." Layne flicked her hair—the tips recently dyed bright pink—behind her shoulder and continued as if Claire had never interrupted. "No, but _seriously_, Claire, I found your future husband. He's _the one_ for you. I know it."

"The guys that take Music Theory aren't really my type," Claire told her friend. The guys that hung around those circles on her campus tended to be too… _punk_ for her tastes.

"Yeah, but this guy is different. Trust me. He's more… down to earth than the other guys you've met from my group of friends. Relaxed and pretty chill, but charming. Kind of intense, like you, and most importantly, really, really _hot_. I'd be after him in a heartbeat if I wasn't already seeing Zoe."

"What's his name?" Claire asked finally, albeit reluctantly.

"You wouldn't know him," Layne told her after gulping down her coffee. She reached for another packet of sugar. "He just started this semester, but I'm betting he's a transfer. He's older than you. His name's Cam Fisher." Her friend paused there before abandoning her coffee altogether. She leaned her elbows on the table and adopted a serious expression. "And okay, promise me you'll listen before judging."

"What?" Claire asked, amused. She wondered what amazingly awful deal-breaking detail Layne had left out about her supposed soulmate.

"He's in a band."

"Layne, _no_," she cried, rolling her eyes and turning to look around campus to avoid her friend's gaze.

"I knew you'd react like this," Layne snapped. "Listen, this guy is the total package. And honestly, perfect for you."

Claire wrinkled her nose. If he was in a punk rock garage band and anything like any of Layne's usual eyelinered gothic friends, she disagreed. What Layne considered perfect for her was usually the opposite. Despite both being art majors and in most of the same classes, she and Layne could be considered on opposite ends of the indie spectrum. Layne was pure rebel rocker, with multicolored hair, vibrant clothing, a nose piercing, and fishnets anything she could find in thrift stores. Claire, on the other hand, was edgy bohemian, almost New Age. She enjoyed kitchy patterns, simple jewelry, occasionally lace, and vintage stuff. Honestly, she would have gone vegetarian if she didn't worry so much about falling into the stereotype.

It wasn't prejudice. Claire got along fine with all of Layne's friends. She just wasn't interested in _dating_ them. Her mother would never approve. Getting her to agree to allow her to take photography classes in Chicago was enough heartache. She didn't want to add more.

Still though, Claire sighed. Layne had been really excited and she did feel kind of mean for always judging her potential set ups. Layne meant well. She just wanted Claire happy. And also someone she could double date with.

She turned back to Layne. "What _kind_ of band is he in?"

Layne rolled her eyes. "Oh, what does it matter? Every single time any band guy on campus so much as looks at you, you give them this look. I should give it a name. The Claire Lyons Rocker Freeze-Out. You know for someone really laid-back, you're also really high maintenance."

Claire's jaw dropped in complete surprise. "_What_? I am not. I—I don't …do that."

Layne raised both her brows in a gesture that screamed _yes, you actually do_. "My god… Claire, you do. You're cold shouldered to everyone I try to set you up with. Remember Tristan? The guy I tried to introduce you to last week at Kaufman's?"

"I was totally polite!" Claire corrected instantly in protest.

"Yeah," Layne sneered good-naturedly. "_Polite_. Who's _just_ polite to someone they're on a double date with? You paid more attention to your bagel than you did him."

"I like Kaufman's," Claire muttered, flushing a bit red a being caught out by her friend. She hadn't realized it had been that bad. Honestly, she had just been… kind of _bored_. Not being part of a band or in any music classes or having gone to any rock concerts lately meant that she hadn't found much to talk about with Tristan. It would have been almost awkward if Layne and Zoe hadn't been there to defuse any and all tension.

"Have you ever _given_ a band member a chance?"

"Yes!"

Layne's stupid brows rose again, this time in disbelief.

Claire huffed in annoyance, uncrossing her arms and leaning forward to tick off numbers on her fingers. Apparently, she'd have to prove it. "Honestly. Yes, I've given band guys a chance. Let's see. There was my first ever boyfriend back home. He was in a Red Hot Chili Peppers cover band. Yes, you heard that right. A cover band. It counts. …There was Max from freshman year. He wasn't in a band _exactly_, but he played guitar and was more interested in having me fawn over him and his music than actually _talk_ about anything. …There was this one bum who was drunk off his ass on Michigan Avenue at night who serenaded me with a tambourine—"

"_What_?" Layne interrupted with a screech. "That doesn't count."

Claire's head snapped up from her fingers and frantic memories to scowl. "He followed me fifty feet. It counts."

Layne snickered, rolling her eyes, but she allowed Claire to continue.

"And those aren't even including all the band members _you_ tried to set me up with."

"_Wow_, Claire. I'm so sorry to hear about all those _traumatic_ experiences with band boys." Sarcasm dripped from her words like sticky syrup. Claire fake-scowled at her friend. Layne grinned back. "I hate to break it to you, Claire, but I think you've picked the wrong school to attend. This is Chicago. The Art Institute of Chicago, specifically. Everyone's in a band. I think you'd have a harder time finding a guy _not_ in a band. With that criteria, you'll never find anyone."

Claire snorted. She deliberated, biting her lip in consideration before finally giving in to Layne's wide puppy dog eyes. "Alright, alright _fine_!" she snapped, standing up and tossing her coffee cup in the recycling bin. "I'll give this Cam guy a chance. I'll even act interested, just to prove you wrong."

"Perfect," Layne thrilled gleefully, standing up too. She fished back out the flyer that she had been intending to show Claire all along. "Because he invited me to watch him play tonight at that underground place, Retro Echo, I've been wanting to check out. They start soon."

Claire accepted the wrinkled flyer from her as they walked, taking in the list of band names advertised and the set list. A band name, _Pavement Cures_, was circled in red sharpie. She guessed that that was the band that this Cam guy was in. She sighed, linking arms with Layne and started making their way over.

But the moment she walked into the underground bar, Claire knew that it wasn't her scene. The place was filled with people in dark clothes and piercings.

With her motorcycle boots and homemade-studded skinny jeans, Layne fit right in. Though, she would have fit in anywhere even if she _wasn't_ dressed the part. Layne just had that personality; the kind that blended and merged into any crowed but still stuck out as unique. She was the kind of person that made everyone feel comfortable. Claire though, stuck out like a sore thumb in her flowy patterned pineapple shift dress that she had found for a steal at the local Farmer's Market.

The place was dark and dim with only purple show lights shining on the stage situated in the back behind a mosh pit dance floor. There were small tables like a café, but they were made up of mismatch chairs and seats surrounding the dance floor. No one was sitting on them. Most of the patrons were jumping up and down jamming to the beat of the band currently playing, crowded around the bar trying to get drinks, or in the very back playing pool. There were no frills. It was completely as is.

Claire felt completely out of her zone. This was edgier than anywhere she'd ever been.

"There he is," Layne cried, already moving to the beat of the heavy guitar. She tugged her along forward more into the bar and pointing to a group of guys standing at the edge of the stage, watching the show. Claire had been awkwardly standing near the entrance surveying the area, wondering what Layne had gotten her into. "He's the one with the leather jacket. It looks like we made it, they haven't gone on yet."

To be completely and utterly honest again, at first glance, Claire didn't see what it was about Cam Fisher that made Layne declare them soulmates. Sure, he was really attractive, but Claire had always been wary of good looking guys. Experience told her they were either total douchebags or full of themselves. And Cam was the kind of guy that she would pass by on campus before blushing and looking away, knowing that she never stood a chance. He was the kind of guy that _inspired_ groupies.

Claire faltered, tugging Layne back with nervous eyes. "Layne, I don't know about this anymore."

Layne turned back to face her instantly. She leaned in close to Claire with concerned eyes. "What's wrong?" And before Claire even had to answer, Layne had understood her completely. She was feeling out of place. "Hey, I admit this place was more goth than I thought, but I swear, Cam's not like that. He's actually pretty hipster," she laughed.

Claire furrowed her brows in skepticism.

"If you're not interested, you're not interested. This doesn't have to be all about him. Yeah, I know this isn't your crowd, but that just means you can let loose. Let's just have fun! You'll never see these people again."

That was probably true. Claire allowed herself to relax, once again soothed by her friend Layne's upbeat reassurance and confidence. She even found herself nodding to the beat of the drums as Layne tugged her closer to Cam at the other end of the bar.

He looked up and spotted them. His grin was sunny bright.

"Layne! Hey," he greeted loudly over the music as they came to a stop near him. "Glad you could make it."

"Cam, this is my friend, Claire." Layne literally threw her to the wolves; pushing her forward and into Cam's direct line of sight. She tried to smother a scowl at her friend. _Way to be obvious, Layne_, she thought with an internal eye roll.

"Hey," Cam called over the music. He glanced back at Layne though. "Can I get you guys a drink?"

When they murmured their assent and Cam headed over to the bar, Layne elbowed Claire in the side. "Stop it. That's the Look."

"Ow!" Claire cried, rubbing her probably bruised ribs. "I'm not—not on _purpose_, at least."

Layne rolled her eyes, turning to Cam as he returned with their drinks. Layne accepted them both before handing one to Claire. Cam gestured to one of the tables on the side and they all slid into their respective seats. At the urging of her best friend, Claire decided to give it a real try. She observed him over her cup. He was more attractive up close. Clean shaven and earnest, he was honestly nothing like Layne's other band friends.

But a few minutes into the loud conversation and laughter over the music, it became apparent that Cam had no idea that this was a set up. His attitude was all casual, though he was listening with rapt attention to Layne's analysis of indie rock and its transition back to the ways of classic alternative.

Awkwardly, Claire realized with wide eyes, Cam seemed more interested in _Layne_.

_Seriously?_ she thought in surprise, taken aback. _Does he not know that Layne is _taken_? _

It wasn't until Cam was called onstage to perform that Claire _really_ looked at him with open eyes, allowing the situation a moment of consideration. It was the embarrassed grimace on his face that caught her attention. "I'm up next. Sorry about this."

Layne smiled softly, tugging on her bright pink ends. "We can catch up after."

"Enjoy the show!" Cam called to her as he whipped off his leather jacket and hopped up on stage, accepting the guitar his band mate handed him.

"Hot, right?" Layne said, turning to her with eyebrow wiggles. Claire glanced around in embarrassment. The words had been pretty loud since _Pavement Cures _was only just introducing themselves on stage.

Yeah, Claire had to agree. But it wasn't just that. Now that Claire was allowing herself to consider him, it was _more_ than that. He was different than anyone that she had ever met. Layne was right, he didn't seem like the usual type at all. He eluded a kind of confidence that couldn't be faked and he actually was charming. He enjoyed things as they came with a relaxed ease and quiet masculinity that was actually really appealing and he was apparently a good listener. He had a self-deprecating wit and a smile that drew her eye. He put his all into the music, not even noticing the audience cheering them on. But when he looked up over at them head on, Claire noticed with a start that his eyes were different colors. One was green and the other was blue. Against, the dim purple lights of the stage, they almost glowed.

With his light skin and dark hair, his eyes were so _intense_. That was when Claire began to see… in a whole new light (literally) the guy that her friend was so excited for her to meet.

_Jealousy, turning saints into the sea__, __swimming through sick lullabies__  
__Choking on your alibis, but it's just the price you pay_

And before she knew it, Claire was on the dance floor with Layne, taking in his lyrics, moving herself freely against a mob of people having the time of their lives.

She was one of them.

Afterwards, when Cam approached them after his set, ignoring the people crowding around his band clamoring for their attention, wiping his sweat with his The Strokes t-shirt, exposing his abdomen, Claire's breath caught. She was panting and sweaty and probably really gross, but Cam didn't seem to mind at all.

Without even really noticing it, Claire was sucked into his orbit, pulled into his conversational zone. She found herself animated. Freed from the drink, maybe or the liberty of dancing wildly just for herself or Cam's undivided attention, Claire found herself engaging with him for _real_ this time. Discussing everything from her new photography project on the evolution of architecture in cities, to her personal thoughts and analysis of his band's lyrics, to her mother's weird reluctance for her to be so far away at school in Chicago, to the newest place she had tried out that had the best _thin_ crust pizza, to the funny thing her Fine Arts professor had said that morning.

Cam was so open, Claire found herself open too. And when Layne stood up from the table with a sly, knowing smile saying that she had to go and meet Zoe, Cam and Claire decided to get another drink.

Which led to another drink. Which led to dinner at the Claire's new favorite restaurant that served the opposite of Chicago's famed deep dish pizzas (Cam fell in love with place too). Which led to gelato on the corner of Michigan Avenue (Claire ordered strawberry and gummy bears and Cam ordered chocolate with the same). Which led to a walk through campus (since Cam insisted on escorting her back to her room).

_He was a gentleman_, Claire found herself thinking in surprise when her draped his leather jacket over her in the Chicago night mist.

They passed another college student sitting up against the wall, strumming his guitar as they walked together.

_Oh please don't drop me home, because it's not my home, it's their home and I'm welcome no more,_ the guy with wide-rimmed glasses was strumming and singing.

"Hey, isn't this The Smiths?" Cam asked, tilting his head. "Listen…"

"Oh my god," Claire cried, turning to him in surprise. "It's 'The Light That Never Goes Out'!" It completely blew Claire's mind that a guy like Cam …who listened to the Strokes, who rocked alternative New Wave, who wore leather jackets and liked gummies more than even her, and who was so ridiculously attractive that it was almost _criminal_, knew her favorite band and one of her favorite songs. Enough to even recognize a bastardized acoustic version.

"He's not bad," Cam grinned with a shrug, fishing out his wallet and tossing a couple dollars into the student's open guitar case.

"_To die by your side, is such heavenly way to die_," Cam sang along, stuffing his hands in his jean pockets and rocking on his heels, oblivious to the incredulous look in her eyes.

_Holy shit_, Claire realized with a start. He couldn't be real. She had spent almost five late night hours straight engrossed in vivid conversation with him, laughing and joking and eating with him, like he was her oldest friend. It was like she was a whole other person. But she hadn't been, not really. She had been _herself_. And she had to slowly admit it.

Layne had been _right_.

Cam Fisher might just be her soulmate.

##

After a few gatherings of strategically asked questions at the regular luncheons each Westchester family threw in rotation, Ella Fisher had finally fished out as much as she could of the disturbing rumor involving her baby son (from Alicia, Josh, and Derrick).

Which wasn't much.

Just that apparently, her son and this Claire Lyons girl had been dating for almost _two_ years.

She had _known_ that allowing her son to attend school so far away was a terrible, terrible idea. But after, everything with… _her other son_… Ella had learned to loosen the reins a bit and allow her younger son a bit more freedom to do as he desired (so long as he stepped up to the plate, when the time came).

She had learned that pushing her sons to do what she explicitly desired was impossible if they had to give all the time. So, Ella had learned her first lesson and allowed compromise to seep into their interactions. She allowed Cameron little freedoms in exchange for future favors. Like his duty… and birthright.

It wasn't that she was surprised that her son had a new girlfriend. What surprised her (and annoyed her to no end) was that it had taken her _this_ long to find out about it. Anyone could see that he was a prime target specimen, what with his background and inheritance and legacy, and over the years there had been _plenty_ of girls. All of them had been insignificant in Ella's eyes, since she knew that her son wasn't really serious about any them.

They were flings. He wasn't ready to settle down yet.

But this time was different.

Ella had a theory about men; one that she herself put to the test and proved fact. She truly believed that men in their social circles were spewing complete bullshit when they talked about 'being in true love' and 'finding _the one_'. Marriage was merely a matter of _timing_. As a young teenager, she had heard plenty of stories of women dating their dream men for four years or more, only to break up, turn around, and find them engaged to their new girlfriends after only about six months. And it was in that realization that Ella knew she wouldn't be making the same mistake.

Whenever a man was finished sowing his oats and ready to settle down, whichever girl that happened to be there at the time would be considered '_the one_'.

In actuality, that was exactly how she had caught Matthew Fisher, at precisely the right moment.

And now, her baby Cameron was ripe for the plucking.

If Cameron was bringing this girl home to New York to attend his best friend's Derrick wedding… it meant things were getting serious. Serous enough that he purposely never mentioned this girl's existence to his own mother. Serious enough to almost ruin _everything_.

Sitting here on the French veranda balcony of the Fisher's historic estate, surrounded by the upper crust ladies she had worked so hard all her life to integrate herself into, planning _the_ charity event of the season, Ella did not take for granted what it all meant.

Because to Ella, everyone single person occupied a specific space in the elaborately constructed social circles in her mind. Like most of the other woman surrounding her, she could meet another person anywhere in the world—from shopping at the L'Eclaireur in Paris to drinking at the Le Crystal lounge in Monte Carlo to brunch at Il Fresno in Westchester—and within a minute of learning their full name and where they lived, could implement a proven social theorem and calculate exactly where they stood in her social constellation.

Based on how long they've been in America, who their family was and anyone else relevant they were related to, how their fortune was derived (the right way or the dirty way), how they dressed and presented themselves, what family scandals had occurred recently in the past few years and how likely they were to occur again, how much property they owned (from where they were based and where they vacationed in the summertime), Ella could derived their approximate net worth and determine whether or not any association or interaction with them would positively or negatively affect her and her family… and act accordingly.

The Lyons of _Lyons Motorcars _were very, very new money. The kind that gave her a cross between a splitting headache of embarrassment to shudders of unrepressed horror. The kind of new money _everyone_ tried to dissociate from. Worse than the Riveras and _worse_ than the Marvils, if that was even possible. The kind with daughters that guest stared on reality TV shows and flashed paparazzi in the streets out of pure enjoyment. One of the cousins had even been caught in an underage sex tape scandal three years ago. Last she heard, one of the family sons had wrapped his new unnecessary and flashy Lamborghini Aventador around a telephone pole on vacation and was only just pardoned.

The fact that they were from a _rival_ company just took the cake.

Her baby should have known better. She had raised him smarter than that. Obviously, this girl had bewitched and entranced him into forgetting everything that she had tried to protect him from.

_The mother of this girl was cunning_, Ella seethed, _to encourage her daughter to latch onto _her_ son_. Even if her daughter didn't snag her baby's fortune, she would get the reputation of ties to old money they so desired. And possible developments in the auto industry if her son didn't guard their family secrets close to his chest.

Ella was pulled back into current events at the sound Tessa Hurley's voice.

"Is everything alright, Ella?" Tessa was saying. The other ladies—assembled for the Conservation committee meeting—were eyeing her in unguarded interest posing as concern.

"Yes, of course, Tess," she flustered in response at her awkward faux pas. Too consumed with thoughts of her son and his parasitic opportunist girlfriend, Ella had completely zoned out, frozen and staring down at the lemon with gelatinous red cherry filling and Royal icing tart they were all sampling for the banquet.

Nadia, of course, couldn't resist bringing it up again. She just loved to see Ella so ill at ease and uncomfortable. It so rarely happened that they all got a thrill from it.

"Is this about Cameron, Ella?" Nadia hedged. "Have you discovered more about his infamous girlfriend?"

Ella took a deep breath and opened her eyes. It was then and there that she decided that she needed to call in all reinforcements. She would need all the support and all the help she could get (despite how much she loathed to admit it).

"Cameron doesn't realize what horrible mistake he's making with this girl. And now I've discovered he's not even going to stay with us at our house when he arrives! He's always stayed with me. Anna, your son told me he's going to stay at the Saint Sherry's with that girl! As if he's trying to hide her from us. Oh god, how is this going to _look_?" Ella cried dramatically as she smeared the chilled coconut-and-Belgium chocolate pudding on the side of the intricately detailed Villeroy dessert plate.

Kendra tsked in sympathy, but Anna and Jacklyn raised their brows.

"How distasteful," Marsha couldn't help but chime in. "Sharing a bed like that, when they aren't even married. You know what people are going to think, Ella? That they've eloped and they're coming to New York for their honeymoon!"

The ladies with single daughters just couldn't stop themselves from fanning Ella's flames. Not that they needed any stroking. She was already at boiling point.

"Who does this girl think she is?" Nadia threw in, hiding her delighted smile at Marsha joining in on her plan. "How dare this Lyons girl think that she can just waltz right into Westchester on Cameron's arm without your _approval_? She obviously has no idea how things work."

"Mmm!" Tessa agreed, dropping her dessert fork and shaking her head in frustration. "Children these days. _None_ of the proper etiquette. My son is exactly the same. At least, your son finally admitted that he was bringing someone home. I can't even expect from any of my children. I have to find out in the papers how they're doing. But, what can you do? This is what happens when you let them attend college halfway around the world."

"Ella, you have to watch out for these new money girls," Jacklyn threw in slyly as she scooped more dessert. She was the only one still sampling (it helps to have an esteemed plastic surgeon for a husband). Ella was quick to catch the jab though. She knew _exactly_ what Jacklyn was referring to. "They aren't like the new money girls of _our_ generation. They're craftier."

"I hope she's not one of those hurricanes," Masha added in agreement.

"What? What hurricane?" Ella asked, her ears still ringing in furious anger at Jacklyn's subtle remark. She hadn't been paying attention.

"You know! How notorious these new money girls can be. They swoop in unexpectedly and out of nowhere, the men fall head over heels, and before you know it they're gone, but not before sucking up every single dollar, just like a hurricane," Anna explained to her patiently.

As Ella blinked in rising horror, Julia Gedman nodded sagely before adding, "Many men have fallen prey. Remember the McAdams middle son? That ex-wife of his _purposely_ introduced him to the girl who became his mistress, and then used that as an excuse to get a huge divorce settlement! The McAdams had to sell their renowned beach front property to pay her off."

"Ummph," Grace Plovert jumped in. She couldn't hold it in any longer either. "Stacy was _so_ modest at first; quiet, reserved, and polite. But the moment that thirty-carat diamond was on her finger, she transformed into the Queen of Morroco. Now it's Prada this and Prada that. Prada everything! And the money she spends. Have you _seen_ how she forced my Chris into wasting money by hiring that security team to escort her everywhere when she's on vacation? Like she's worth anything. Who would want to kidnap her? My _son_ is the one who should have bodyguards, not this new money girl!"

"Oh, god," Ella moaned as if she was in agony. "I don't what I'm going to do when my son brings home a girl like that."

"You know exactly what you have to do," Nadia soothed consolingly, patting Ella's hand and staring meaningfully at her. Ella glanced up and met her eyes. She turned at looked at Grace and Marsha and Julia's eyes… and then she did know.

She couldn't allow this girl to hurricane her son and her family.

And she had the perfect help. None of these ladies wanted her son married to new money.

"You need to protect your son," Nadia told her. "I can give you the number to my PI, I have him on speed dial. He's all the way in Massachusetts, but I guarantee you that he'll dig up every piece of dirt available on this Claire Lyons girl for you."

"I can't head to Massachusetts," Ella replied. "Cameron and that girl will be arriving soon."

"Ella, I think that now is the _perfect_ time to go. Think about it. They're not even staying at your home. You have an excuse not be here and in not welcoming them at first sight, you'll have the _complete_ upper hand. And you'll be showing all of society that you're not rolling out the red carpet for this girl and welcoming her with open arms. And if she _is_ a hurricane, you won't lose face in already being buddy-buddy with her," Marsha continued.

"Plus, you'll have information on her. _All_ her dirty secrets," Julia widened her eyes in a delighted gasp. "Maybe she was married before. Maybe she sent nudes out to past boyfriends. Maybe she had a child at sixteen. Maybe she's a con artist—"

"Oh god," Ella cried, signalling to her maid. "I think I need a Xanax."

"Ladies!" Anna chided over their voices. The ladies all deferred to her and shut up. "Stop scaring Ella. We don't know anything about this girl yet, maybe it's nothing at all. She might end up being a wonderful daughter in law."

Ella accepted the glass of water from her maid and gulped down her pill. She set down the glass and took a deep, calming breath, considering everything that all her friends had said. She opened her eyes.

"Marsha, you were always so smart. And Nadia, you're completely right. Can I stay at your beautiful estate in Dover?"

"Of course! I'll come with you. I haven't been visited my estate in years. Does anyone else want to come with us this weekend?" Nadia thrilled, ecstatic.

Kendra and Anna were out of the picture (what with the upcoming wedding) and Jacklyn had enough self-preservation to decline.

Nadia turned to Tessa. "What about you, Tess? Are you in?" She hoped that Tessa could be roped into it and they would be able to use her private plane.

Tessa pulled out her phone and clicked through her schedule. "I'll have to check with Sebastian, but I think if we leave _before_ the weekend, we can take the plane. He needs to fly to Europe to take over some stocks on this new internet company this week and then Kemp is using the plane for Derrick's bachelor party sometime soon…"

"Then let's stay for a whole week!" Nadia declared. "We can do a spa weekend."

Ella began to perk up. "That sounds like a great plan. Cameron has made it plain that he can last without me for a while. He and this girl can manage on their own for now. And I'll return after, refreshed and armed with valuable information."

"Your valuable _ammunition_, you mean," Julia corrected with a laughed.

With a plan of action and support from all the ladies, Ella began to feel her body slowly relaxing. She was feeling more and more like herself. She looked around for her phone and covertly started to text her stockbroker. Tessa always knew exactly what stocks were going up and what were going down through her husband. She helped them all out by telling them which to short and which to buy. "Oh, Tessa. What was the name of that internet company your husband was planning to take over again?"

She signaled for the caterers to continue. She accepted a plate of petit-fours and picked up her dessert fork.

It tasted like victory.

##

* * *

**Author's Note: **Claire and Cam's own little world is so different from the world of Westchester. Here's was a look at that. Also, lyrics from The Killers. No real reason, I just picked a random song. The other song is credited. My stories and characters are so AU it's not even funny. I'm sorry.

For the record, Layne did **not** know that Cam was a rich kid rebelling from his parents in Chicago. He is really a business major [per his parent's expectations] taking Music Theory classes for fun. It shows you that Claire's not a golddigger, obviously.

I posted cast pictures on my profile. Check it out if you're interested!

Review if you life?


	5. Arrival and Reveals

**Authors Note**: LOOK A QUICK UPDATE! Thank you to** bullchizz155**, **psychotic honeybadger of death**,** kissinginparis**, **guest**, **miyame-chan**, **guest**, and** enna** for your kind reviews! This story is so AU and the focus isn't on the Pretty Committee, so it warms my heart to know that you guys still want me to update. I could cry. Really. It makes me happy that you guys enjoy the Westchester ladies a bit too. They're outrageous.

Restaurant names were taken from the Michelin Guide. I picked random ones in New York that had 4-stars and up. Claire obviously would not know how hard it would be to get last minute reservations. (Or have the place let them wear whatever they want). Places like that also don't have prices on the menu. You usually do a pre-set menu with a fixed (plus table service) price. Claire also had no idea Derrick/Massie were filthy stinking rich. Because old money do not really flaunt that kind of thing. Yep, so there you go. Hope that explains it. Also, Ella is racist. I think I've said this before.

Layne finally reveals all that she knows! And the Motorcars question is finally answered. Shout-out to anyone who caught all my little details of Claire's background.

* * *

**Chapter Four: Arrivals and Reveals**

##

"You spoil me," Claire told her boyfriend jokingly as they made their way out of the plane first. She had thought that Cam was kidding when he tugged her through the plush velvet curtains to their own walnut wood paneled section, featuring buttery hand-stitched leather seats, a spacious seating area with their own flat screens, unlimited drinks, and Givenchy throw blankets. Who even flew First Class from Chicago to New York anyways? It was barely a two hour ride.

"I figured since we're going on vacation for the first time together, I'd pull out all the stops," he had said with a shy smile.

"You didn't have to do this," she had protested. "What did this cost you? Part of your liver?"

"Nah," Cam had grinned toothily. "I had a lot of flyer miles saved up."

That was all that Claire could get out of Cam before a beautiful stewardess appeared out of nowhere, as if straight from a travel magazine, to help seat them. It was her first time riding First Class and Claire was never going back. So now, despite the late hour, Claire's whole body was vibrating with energy. The sight of all those skyscrapers lighting up the night sky in the distance took her breath away. She couldn't believe she was actually standing here in New York.

The moment they stepped on the escalator leading to Terminal 2 after picked up their luggage, Claire spotted what must have been Cam's best friend, Derrick Harrington, holding a sign that read 'BEST MAN'. Next to him, stood a willowy brunette wrapped in a blanket.

"What are you doing here?" Cam called in surprise as they stepped off the escalator and approached. He swung his arm around Derrick and pulled him into a bear hug.

"I had to welcome my best man properly. You're getting full service, man!" Derrick called back cheerfully, patting him on the back.

"My turn," the brunette beside him thrilled. She leaned over and pulled Cam into a hag and gave him a peck on the cheek. She turned to Claire next and smiled brightly, showing her teeth, which were commercial white under the florescent airport lights. "You must be Claire. I'm Massie."

"Right, sorry. Claire Lyons—Massie Block, Derrick's fiancée, and this asshole over here, of course, is Derrick," Cam explained.

"It's nice to meet you," Claire smiled back. While her body was pulsing with excitement at the new atmosphere, she was embarrassed to think of what she looked like at one in the morning after a plane ride. She hadn't expected to meet Cam's best friend and the happy couple so soon. She studied them for a bit. Derrick was taller than she imagined, roguishly handsome with a smattering of tanned freckles and sun kissed mussed hair that gave him the easy-going look of a surfer. Massie, on the other hand, had intense amber eyes and classic features that made her look almost intimidating up close. She was pretty even without a stitch of makeup, her hair pulled back in a messy bun, and in what looked like silk pajama bottoms.

In all honesty, they were nothing like what Claire expected for Cam's childhood friends.

"The cars have been circling for almost half an hour, but let me make sure they're outside," Derrick said, texting away on his phone. He led them toward the exit. Claire followed after slowly, taking in the sights of the airport. She fished in her bag for her camera and snapped a picture of the modern floor to ceiling art display. Massie turned back at the flash. "Cam mentioned you were a photographer," she said. "You're going to need a lot of film for when you hit the city."

"I hope so," Claire replied as she snapped a photo of their exit. She was about to step foot in New York. She couldn't believe she was really _here_. With Cam.

Two all-black SUVs were parked out front as they exited the airport.

"Here," Derrick gestured at one of them. "Just pile all your luggage in there. It's going straight to the hotel."

Claire was so overwhelmed by the bustle of random people surrounding them and loading and unloading luggage that she didn't question it. She allowed a man in a suit to take her luggage out of her hands. She followed Cam as he held open the door to the other SUV for her. Cam slid in after her, shaking his head at his best friend in the driver's seat.

"Dude, I can't even remember the last time I had a reception like this." Probably when he was a kid and he was returning from a summer aboard for the first time. After that, there were about a hundred trips without fanfare. His parents were usually too busy to head out, arranging drivers to pick him up at the tarmac.

"Nothing but the best for my best man," Derrick replied smarmily, adjusting the mirrors in the car. He turned and faced Cam and Claire in the back. "Okay, where to? Straight to the hotel or out? Are you guys hungry?"

"I'm starving," Cam moaned. But he knew Claire must be feeling overwhelmed, so he turned to see what she wanted.

"I could eat," Claire said slowly. She was _way_ too excited to head to the hotel just yet and it looked like despite Derrick and Massie dressed in pajamas, they weren't quite ready for bed yet either. "I'm not really tired at all."

Cam chuckled and threw his arm around his girlfriend. "Claire spent the whole plane ride mooning over Thor in the Avengers. All of the special pre-releases and she chose a movie she's seen about a hundred times before."

Massie turned around in her seat and eyed Claire unnervingly. "You're a fan of Chris Hemsworth?" Claire nodded nervously until Massie's face broke out into a slight teasing smile. "Okay then. We can be friends," she declared.

"What is it with girls and Chris Hemsworth?" Cam pretended to roll his eyes.

"_Hello_?" Massie pretended to snap, settling back into her seat and snuggling up under her blanket to shield herself from the car's air conditioning. "Are you blind? He's dreamy."

"_So_ where to?" Derrick asked, pulling out of the airport with heavy traffic on all sides. "What are we feeling? Where should we take Claire for her first time in the city?"

Claire was pressed against the window, amazed by the immense skyscrapers that surrounded them on all sides, so tall she couldn't even see the top. They hovered over her with a tangible presence. It was as if she was enclosed in a whole other world of unnaturally bright neon lights and city cars. Despite the late hour and cool night, the city was busier and brighter than Chicago ever was.

"Oh man," Cam rubbed his face, dropping his head back against the seat, overwhelmed at all the choices. "…What about brioche at the Tortine? Or those zucchini pancakes at Le Bernardin? Fuck, I haven't had those since I was a kid." Being back in the city was bringing back a multitude of memories of all his favorite places; the restaurants his grandparents took him to for celebrations, the bars and lounges he hit up with Harris and his friends, the brunches he had with his parents and their friends. He wanted Claire to be able to try them all.

Derrick laughed. "Le Bernardin? Dude, you only like those because Messo used to make them special just for you. Shit, I forgot all about that. We haven't been there in years. Is he still the head chef there? It's been so long."

"_Ew_. Cam!" Massie fake-whined, wrinkling her nose. "Seriously? You haven't changed at all. As in you _don't change_ at all. No one goes to Le Bernardin anymore. The wait is headache-inducing."

"…I don't know…" Derrick disagreed. He found himself craving the salted caramel they served. "They _do_ have entertainment."

Massie reached over and teasingly pinched Derrick's cheek. "Aww, you just want to spend as much time as possible with Cam."

"Fuck yeah!" Derrick swatted her away as he made a turn into heavy traffic. "I gotta monopolize as much time as possible before Mommy _Dearest_ swoops in." He glanced at Claire through the rearview mirror. "Claire, be thankful that you don't have to deal with Ella right when you arrive—"

"Derrick, you're going to scare her off," Cam interrupted before he could finish.

Claire blinked in confusion, but before she could ask, Massie turned around and spoke. "Oh, I almost forgot. Cam, last time I ran into your mom at the Ridgeway, she grabbed me by the arm and said, 'Massssie, _darling_, you're getting _way_ too dark! You better stop sun-tanning now, otherwise on your wedding day, you'll be so black people will think you're Mexican.'"

The car erupted into snorting laughter, but not Claire. "Um, she was kidding, right?"

Massie cut her eyes to her. They were sharp. "Of course not. Ella doesn't kid."

Derrick glanced at Claire through the rearview mirror again. "I think you'll understand once you meet Cam's mom," he said, trying to put her at ease. "Anyways, it's perfect that your parents are gone, Cam, because _this_ weekend is the bachelor party."

"And Claire, you'll have to come to my bachelorette party," Massie declared. "Let's show the guys how it's _really_ done."

"You bet," Claire smiled slowly, her confusion slipping away at the kind offer.

Massie returned to the topic at hand before any more could be said. "Le Bernardin is _out_. The wait definitely isn't worth it. If you're craving brunch for dinner, Cam, the pancakes at Per Se are _so_ much better."

"You always want to go to Per Se," Derrick butted in with a chuckle, giving Massie's scheme away. "You just want those white truffles."

Massie turned back around to face them again. "If we're going to take Claire anywhere, Per Se's the place. Those truffles are to die for. I swear, one bite and you'll be in heaven. The guys don't know what they're talking about. Where else in the city can you find a better low-cal meal with the best table service at this time of night?"

Cam threw his arm over Claire, leaning in close to whisper into her ear. "Welcome to New York, where everyone argues about food, over who knows the best place for the best dish at the best time of day. It's a pissing contest."

Claire giggled, gazing up at him. She had never seen her boyfriend so happy. Claire wondered how she could have ever possibly been worried about this trip. She leaned her head against Cam's chest and closed her eyes, allowing the pleasant sounds of her boyfriend and her new friends chattering in the background to sooth her nerves as the late night city blurred past.

"So, Claire," Derrick called again as they pulled into a parking area. "How does it feel to be in New York?"

"Well," Claire mused slowly, licking her lips. She was still gazing into Cam's sparkling eyes. "An hour ago, we landed in an airport more beautiful and modern than I could have ever imagined, and now I'm sitting here, in the city of lights, surrounded by nightlife, about to have my first meal in New York. I don't think I ever want to leave!"

Cam grinned broadly at her and Claire beamed back.

Neither noticed the look Massie shot Derrick.

##

The sun was streaming in bright through the windows. Claire stretched her arms above her head and slowly blinked awake, turning to look at the alarm clock on the side table. Cam was snoring softly beside her. She calculated that she'd only slept for about five hours, but it was already bright outside and she was way too excited to go back to sleep.

Claire sat up and bit her lip, looking around the hotel room. She wondered how much it was costing Cam a night. Because it was a beautiful, elegant suite decorated in understated pale wood and creamy whites. The only burst of color came from the bright orange roses on a console table against a mirrored wall. Claire had never stayed in any place so nice. (She'd lived in apartments smaller than this!)

She rolled out of bed and with a quirk of her lips, slipped on the luxurious _Hers_ bathrobe before padding to the bathroom to brush her teeth. The bathroom was breathtaking, inlaid with what looked to be Italian marble and mother of pearl details. It was also scary advanced, offering 'therapeutic whirlpool bath soaks' and 'rainforest Swiss steam showers', along with terry cloth towel warmers.

Then, Claire walked over to one of the windows and peeked outside.

A perfectly manicured garden with a large, sparkling swimming pool lined with sleek deck chairs greeted her. A man in dark-blue-and-khaki uniform was walking around with a long pole and net, fishing out strays leaves on the surface of the water. There were even pool cabanas and villas available for guests, and just beyond _that_ scenic view, was a brilliant view of Central Park and the high-rise structure of the shopping district, reminding Claire (as if she could forget) that she was standing in the middle of New York.

She closed the curtains for Cam to sleep-in and headed to the sitting room. She pulled out her phone to text her old friend.

Layne: Are you really here?  
Claire: YES! I can't believe it  
Claire: it's not even 7 and already SO HOT  
Layne: this is nothing. just wait. are you staying at Cam's parents?  
Claire: no we're at st sherry's  
Layne: …  
Claire: ?  
Layne: nothing, it's just… central. but anyways, do you want to hang out today?  
Claire: today sounds great. cam needs to help the groom.  
Layne: what is he? the wedding planner? LOL meet at noon?  
Claire: can't wait!

At 12:15pm, there was a knock on the double doors. But before Claire could get up, their butler (Claire still had trouble believing it, and even more trouble interacting with him) slid open the doors.

"Ms. Abeley for you," he announced.

"Uh," Claire stammered. "Right—thank you."

Layne breezed past him into the room dressed like pure _her_. With her classic nose ring, homemade Burn Baby Burn leather vest jacket, high-waisted jean shorts, and motorcycle boots, Layne looked better than ever. It was an outfit only Layne could pull off. It also looked as if they were about to hit Kaufman's before another one of Cam's band set. It brought tears to Claire's eyes.

"Layne!" Claire cried, running towards her with her arms outstretched. "You look great."

"Claire!" Layne called back, pulling her in a rib crushing hug. "It's been so long."

They pulled away, but Claire pulled Layne back into another bone crushing hug to return the favor. She couldn't help but think that if it hadn't been for her, Claire wouldn't even be standing here. She glanced over Layne's shoulder to see the butler (still weird) still standing there.

"Are you done with breakfast, Ms. Lyons?" he asked politely, gesturing to the trolley he had brought in this morning. Claire had been amazed by the selection of pre-breakfast fruits and full service French press coffee for her and Cam.

"Uh, yeah, thank you so much," Claire stammered again as she watched him wheel out the trolley. After reminding them he was only a call away, he headed out.

At the slam of the double doors, Layne turned to Claire. "Okay. What. The. Hell."

Claire stared back with wide blue eyes. She had no idea either.

"Claire!" Layne cried, spinning around and taking in the suite. "Look at this place!"

Claire turned with her, taking in the spacious mosaic marble foyer and sitting room, with its glass chandeliers and wall-to-floor glass doors for privacy. The 24-hour butler service, the flat screen television with Bose surround sound system, the heated floors (though it was almost 90 degrees outside), the electronic drapes, and the classic New York artwork looked _beyond_ extreme in the morning light. She completely understood Layne's shock.

"Isn't this place amazing?" Claire finally blurted out, still overwhelmed by the place.

"It's outrageous!" Layne exclaimed.

Claire thought about the bidet in the bathroom and had to agree.

"I feel like I'm in a dream," she muttered, thinking about how right her words were as they were leaving the plane. _Was all of New York this extravagant?_

"No, Claire," Layne replied. Claire blinked; she hadn't realized that she had spoken aloud. "It really isn't. You're on the top floor of this place. Your butler had to escort me up because of security reasons. He _announced_ my arrival."

"I…"

"I think Cam has some explaining to do," Layne told her with a raised brow and her arms over her chest. It was disconcerting because Claire was slowly realizing that her friend was right. She had been so overwhelmed with the beauty of New York and Cam's happiness that they hadn't really had time to really talk. After the plane ride and the delicious feast last night, they had collapsed into right into bed. And then Cam had errands this morning and Claire had wanted to see Layne as soon as possible. "And I have something to tell you too."

"What? What is it?" she asked in surprise.

"So, you know how you gave me the name of Cam's best friend or whatever?"

Claire nodded frantically, trying to urge Layne to hurry and say more.

"I looked him up," Layne finally explained.

"What?" Claire gasped. "You—_why_?"

"Because I swore his name sounded crazy familiar," Layne muttered, heading over to another console table with bright orange roses. "And you mentioned Westchester County, which is—I can't even explain. It's out of this world, okay? And then you're staying at the St. Sherry's, it just confirms it."

"Confirms what?" Claire asked slowly. Layne grabbed the New York times sitting on the table and flipped it open.

"Derrick Harrington is the heir to the _biggest_ real estate magnate in all of New York," Layne explained, flipping through the newspaper and dropping pages she didn't need and letting them flutter to the ground.

"What?" Claire asked. She seemed to be saying that a lot today. She resolved to stop.

"I couldn't find a single thing on him though," her brunette friend rolled her eyes, flopping down on into a plush velvet Récamier settee and propping her feet up. "Like, he's never in the papers or anything, but I swore I read something the other day that had his name in it." She turned to Claire.

"Look here! Listen to this: Expect private-jet gridlock at Teterboro Airport and road closures all over Westchester this month as New York witnesses its own royal wedding. Massie Alana Block weds Derrick Harrington at St. Peter's Methodist Church in two weeks at high noon, with a private reception to follow at an undisclosed location. The mother of the bride, Kendra Block, is said to have planned every single detail, blowing northward of forty million dollars on the occasion…

"Although the crème de la crème guest list has been more closely guarded and classified than NATO, don't be surprised to see royalty, heads of state, and celebrities in attendance. It's rumored that one of North America's biggest pop divas will perform and many are already taking bets on who designed the bride-to-be's wedding gown. Be on the lookout for New York's most glamorous to arrive in full force, including the socialite Riveras, talk-show host Merri-Lee Marvil and her daughters, reality star Skye Hamilton, the notable Hurleys, and the Lyons of _Lyons Motorcars_."

Claire's jaw had dropped in blatant incredulity.

Layne met her eyes with a look crossed between revulsion and sympathy. "This thing is, like, the biggest event of the year. His name is barely there, and I thought I was wrong because this is ridiculous. But is this her? Is this Derrick's fiancée?" Layne flipped the article toward Claire who leaned over with shaking hands and accepted the paper.

'WEDDING WATCH' was printed in bold and had a whole article on a girl and her mother picking out flowers. There was a picture in the bottom and someone who looked nothing like the makeup-less girl in silk pajamas that greeted her last night. With what looked like expertly applied makeup and a fresh blowout, Massie Block looked supermodel worthy walking the streets on New York with her mom (who was dressed even classier than her)!

"I met them last night," Claire told Layne with disbelieving eyes. "But I had no idea." They had been so laid-back, that Claire still had trouble wrapping her mind around this. Massie in the papers looked nothing like the girl who picked them up from the airport. She couldn't even be _sure_ if this was really Massie. She looked back to Layne. "You said something about the hotel proving it?"

"Claire, he owns this hotel. _That's_ why you're staying here. Your boyfriend's best friend Derrick Harrington's family owns almost _all_ the hotels in New York!"

Claire thought about the two SUVs waiting at the airport yesterday with a weird sort recognition. It was entirely possible. She flopped back against her chair with a whoosh of air. She was so confused.

"I think you and Cam have some things to talk about," Layne told her sagely.

Claire blinked.

##

Matthew Fisher sat in his favorite folding chair in his personal yacht overlooking the clear blue green waters of Port Jackson. He kept one eye on his fishing line that went straight out into the water and the other on the latest issue of _Popular Mechanics_ and its article on self-driving cars. His cell phone vibrated loudly, disrupting the quiet serenity of the bay.

It had to be his wife. She was the only person who ever called his personal cell.

He answered. Immediately, a hysterical flood greeted him.

"Calm down, honey. And speak slower. I can't understand a word you're saying. What is going on? And why are you going to kill yourself?" he asked in his usual calm manner. Typically, nothing rattled him. His work (and wife) required him to have an unruffled demeanor.

"I just got the full dossier on this Claire Lyons girl from Nadia's private investigator in Dover. Do you want to know what it says."

It wasn't even a question. It sounded like a threat. Matthew knew to tread carefully now.

"Err… honey, who is Claire Lyons?" he asked, slowly.

"Don't play dumb!" Ella practically shrieked. He pulled the phone away from his ear with a wince. "I told you last week. Don't you remember? Your son has been dating some girl in secret for more than two years. And he only thought to actually _tell_ us about it _days_ before he actually brings her to New York!"

"You hired a private investigator to check up on this girl?" Matthew asked for clarification.

"Of course I did! We know nothing about this _Claire Lyons_. And everyone already knows about them. Everyone, and I mean, _everyone_ is talking about her and Cameron. Do you even know what I had to put up with? And this private investigator comes highly recommended. I—"

Matthew looked down at his fishing pole, which was just at the beginning tremors and starting to vibrate. He knew exactly where this conversation was going and honestly, he wanted no part of it. "I'm terribly sorry, honey. I'm afraid I can't talk right now. I'm in the middle of an urgent meeting."

"Stop! _This_ is urgent! The report is even worse than I could ever have imagined. The rumors have it _all_ wrong! It turns out this girl is _not_ a Lyons of _Lyons Motorcars_!"

"I always tell you never to believe a word out of those ladies' mouths, Ella honey. They're known for spinning the wildest tales. I thought that you would have discovered this after…" He cleared his throat, not wanting to bring up his other son. He changed back to the topic at hand. "But what difference does this make? Isn't this a good thing, honey? _Lyons Motorcars_ would have been terrible for business. Cam should have known better."

"Good thing?" Ella cried. "This girl is being _deceitful_. She's a liar and a poser. She's pretending to be a Lyons!"

"Well, if her last name just happens to be Lyons, how can you really accuse her of pretending to be a Lyons?" he chuckled.

"Don't mock me!"

"Yes, honey."

"Don't patronize me either. Because I'll tell you how she's a liar. At first, the private investigator told me she was born in South Carolina, but after some deeper digging, he found out that she wasn't even truly born there. She was born in Orlando, Florida!"

"So?" Matthew asked, still eyeing the fishing line distractedly.

"Did you hear me? I said Orlando, Florida!"

Matthew was a bit confused. "Well, where would you rather she originate from?"

"Don't joke, Matthew! Her family comes from some trailer park mobile home center that nobody's has ever heard of. She's _not_ from new money. It's worse than I ever imagined, Matthew! The investigator claims that they were most likely lower class. In other words, they're _lower_ than _peasants_!"

Matthew sighed. "If you go back far enough, honey, _all_ our families were peasants. And you should know that the working class should be revered. They're the backbone of this economy and the fortitude of our fortunes. Without the working class, Fisher Enterprise would never—"

"You're speaking blasphemy, Matthew!" Ella interrupted in distress. "And you're interrupting me. You haven't even heard the worst of it yet. The girl moved to South Carolina as a baby with her mother. But there is no record of her father! In fact, the private investigator wouldn't give me _any_ information on this girl's parents. But with no records, her parents _must_ be divorced! They might never even have been married. Can you believe this?! A child from some divorced no-name peasant family. I'm going to kill myself!"

"Honey, there's nothing wrong with coming from poor broken homes. There are plenty of people like that who go on to have long, happy marriages and long, fruitful lives," he explained patiently, trying to sooth (and reason) with his wife.

"You're not getting it," Ella practically wailed. Matthew sighed deeply. "You're not hearing what I'm saying. This girl is obviously cunning and deceitful and a _gold digger_! You know as well as I do that your last son and only heir can _never_ marry someone like that. Can you imagine how all of polite society is going to react when he brings this parasitic opportunist home?"

After… the latest scandal, Matthew couldn't care less what all of Westchester thought.

"But do you not see how this will affect Cameron? It's _Westchester_. Surely you know how this will end?" Ella finally asked quietly into the silence.

Matthew sighed once more. _This_ was the exactly the reason he spent as much time as he possibly could away from Westchester under the guise of work.

"I've asked Nadia's private investigator to look into and investigate the girl's entire family in Florida. We need to know everything. I don't want to leave a single stone unturned. We need to dig up every little secret. Who knows what we'll find. We need to be prepared for every possibility," his wife declared.

"Don't you think you're going a bit overboard?" Matthew asked with a small smile at his wife's antics. "We haven't even met the girl."

"No, I do not think I'm going overboard, Matthew darling. We must put a stop to this girl before she hurricanes our family." Before Matthew could even ask what the hell that even meant, Ella continued, "Do you want to know what Marsha Gregory thinks?"

_Not really_, he thought. But out loud, he said, "Hm?"

"Marsha thinks that Cameron is going to propose to this girl while they're in New York!"

"If he hasn't proposed _already_," Matthew couldn't resist teasing his wife.

"Oh my god!" Ella screeched. "Do you know something I don't? Has Cameron told you about—"

"No, no, no," Matthew soothed instantly in his calming tones. There was a shit-eating grin on his face. "Don't panic, honey. Ella, you're letting your silly girlfriends work you up for no reason. Let's just wait until we meet her. I'm sure she's going to turn out just—"

Ella interrupted him again with tones of sorrow that drew his attention from his fishing instantly.

"And do you remember the last time we allowed our son to date who they pleased? We can't trust their judgments."

Matthew shut his eyes in both regret and sadness, trying to push out the residual anger that still managed to rise up in him after all this time. His wife was probably right. It was just the right thing to say to get him worried too.

"Nadia's private investigator guarantees that he will uncover it all, but he's asking for a ridiculous price," Ella said quietly through the phone.

"Go ahead, honey," Matthew finally said after a moment of pensive silence and contemplation. He looked back up at his fishing line. The fish was really tugging now. Maybe it was a barramundi. He could ask the chef to grill it for lunch. Matthew just wanted this conversation over with.

His wife would take care of it.

##

* * *

**Author's Note:** Derrick and Cam interactions next chapter along with Claire meeting some people in Westchester. (Should I also do a flashback?) Thanks for reading!

Review if you like?


	6. Facts and Daydreams

**Author's Notes**: **kneexsocks**, **kissinginparis**, **charlesxaviers**, **psychotic honeybadger of death**,**cerulean cascades**, **a****mazingxlivexlovexlaughx3**,** cliquelover**, and **my guest reviewers** are the reason I write. No, really. I want to cry from happiness. I wouldn't have updated this so soon if it weren't for your reviews. Thank you, thank you, thank you for your support.

To _guesttttt_: No, I don't have a beta reader, but I do read over my work for typos. Obviously, I'm not perfect and I miss stuff because I suck, but if you really see that many typos to the point that it bothers you, you can point them out and I'll try to fix them. I read over my crap before I post, but there's no guarantee I'll catch them all. Thanks for telling me!

**In this chapter**: Derrick tries to wake Cam up from his daydreams of a simple life with Claire. Claire gets invited to dinner. But Cam, being an _obvious_ guy, didn't think to warn Claire about the gossip and backstabbing lifestyle of Westchester before all this. /shakes head. Ah well, that's a drama for you. Miscommunication.

* * *

**Chapter Five: Facts and Daydreams**

##

Out of nostalgia, Cam and Derrick always liked to meet up at the old soccer field of their childhood on Cedar Walk. Located conveniently between their two neighborhoods, the central park had offered a perfect place for both boys to burn of steam and meet up for extra practice outside of school in their youths. The original center had long since been knocked down, and was now replaced with an Olympic sized swimming pool and volleyball courts, but Derrick and Cam still managed to meet up in the now decrepit field at least once whenever the both of them were in town.

After a short, but exhausting game, Cam collapsed into the prickly grass and stretched out to cool off. Derrick flopped down next to him without a word. Cam could tell that there was a lot on his old friend's mind, but he also knew better than to ask out outright. Derrick would tell him if it was important.

Instead, he tried to draw him into simple conversation. "So, what else do we need to get done today? The tuxes are in from London. And we're just waiting to hear back about some last minute shit for the rehearsal next week."

Derrick clamped his eyes shut and rubbed a hand roughly over his sweaty face. "Can we please talk about something other than this _fucking_ wedding?"

"Alright," Cam said neutrally. "What do you want to talk about?"

Derrick didn't respond, but Cam remained silent as he waited for his friend. There was no one else anywhere near them, and the only sounds that interrupted them were the occasional muffled shouts of players on the basketball court nearby and the hum of the sports centers air-conditioning in the distance. Still, Cam waited patiently for Derrick to make the next move as he squinted at the bright sky and watch the clouds drifting slowly past.

To the society pages, Derrick was known as New York's billionaire bachelor jock, famed for not only being the heir of one of New York's greatest fortunes, but also as one of New York's top ranked soccer players in his college days. He was celebrated everywhere for his good looks, his care-free lifestyle, and his string of brief flings and romances with local socialites.

But with Cam though, Derrick had the freedom to be his true self. Cam, who had been friends with him since childhood, was probably the only person in New York who didn't give a fuck about his money (since he had lived practically the same lifestyle). And it was as if only when Cam was in town that Derrick really got the chance to unleash all his problems and frustrations. Cam was used to it by now.

"You craving pizza? We should hit up Slice of Heaven after," Cam threw out in an attempt to draw his friend out of his funk.

At those words, Derrick broke his silence with a sniff. "Slice of Heaven. Let me guess, buffalo chicken too? Massie was right. You don't change, do you?"

"Hey, I like what I like," Cam replied simply.

"Even though you always get the exact same shit, you can always change your mind whenever you want. _That's_ the difference between us—you still have choices," Derrick said, flopping his hand down on the grass with a sigh of annoyance.

"Come on, man," Cam raised his brows at his friend's melancholy. "That's not true. You can decide."

"Cam, I haven't been able to make a single decision since I was born. And you know that," Derrick stated. His tone was matter-of-fact and Cam couldn't find it in him to lie so blatantly to his friend. Derrick was right; he did know. "It's a good thing I actually _want_ to marry Block. I just don't know how the fuck I'm going to make it through this Broadway production. Shit. I wish we could elope. I have this fucked up fantasy of kidnapping her, jumping on my jet, and marrying her at some little 24 chapel in the middle of nowhere in Nevada."

"So why not just do it?" Cam couldn't help but ask. "The wedding isn't for two weeks. If you're this miserable, just call it off."

"You know this relationship has been choreographed down the last minute detail. When I announced our relationship, when I announced our engagement, when we announced the wedding date, fuck. There was a schedule I had to follow. That's how shit is and that's how shit's going to be. It's good for 'business', and anything that's good for business is good for the family," Derrick spat bitterly. "Anyways, I don't want to talk about this shit anymore. Let's talk about last night. How was I? Cheery for Claire, I hope?"

"Claire loved you. It was cool to be welcomed like that, but you know, you don't ever have to put on a show for her," Cam told his friend.

"Why? What have you told her about me?" Derrick asked warily.

"Nothing. I haven't told her anything, besides the fact that you have an unhealthy obsession with Mila Kunis," Cam joked.

Derrick laughed. And Cam was relieved—it was a sign that things were slowly going back to normal. He watched as Derrick stood up and picked up their soccer ball. He tossed it in his hands as he spoke. "You didn't tell her about how I tried to stalk her in Paris, did you?"

"Uh, no," Cam chuckled, leaning up on his elbows. "I didn't want to give Claire any more reasons to back out of this trip by giving her the details of all my weird ass friends."

"Speaking of weird," Derrick dropped the ball to the ground and kicked it to him. "Could you believe how nice Massie was being to Claire last night?"

Cam stood up and brushed grass of his pants (a hopeless task) and accepted the ball. He shrugged. "Eh, Massie can be nice sometimes."

"_No_, Massie isn't. You know how she normally is with new people. But I think she wants to keep you on her side. And she could see that I liked Claire instantly."

Cam felt a shot of warmth flow through him at his friend's approval. He hadn't even realized that it meant something to him that Claire be accepted by everyone in Westchester. It made him happy to know that Claire seemed to be able to charm even his most close-minded of friends.

They walked toward where Derrick had parked his car, passing the ball back and forth slowly. "Claire's cool. She's not demanding and she's refreshingly… _normal_. She works for you. But, you do realize that everyone's talking about the two of you, right? Everyone's already taking bets on when the wedding's gonna be."

Cam sighed in irritation. In all honesty, he and Claire never so much as mentioned the rest of their lives together. Claire had always been cool like that. Laid-back and just appreciative of the good in everything, just as they were. It was what drew him to her from the very beginning. He loved the way she never cared what people thought about her. He still remembered the way she had looked when he had first laid eyes on her, dressed in a bright patterned dress at his first concert. She had stood out and drew in attention with her soft looks instantly. He loved the way she always found a way to have fun even when she was out of her comfort zone. Like the way she moved on the dance floor that night, dancing purely for _herself_ (and unlike the girls who he knew calculated their dances to attract his attention), never knowing how many eyes she drew or how _free_ she looked.

Cam had seen her that night and thought that Claire might just be the first girl he'd ever met who was nothing like Westchester, but had enough steel and resolve inside to live _through_ Westchester and make it out alive and unchanged. He kind of hated that bringing her back here was putting pressure on their relationship. So he told him, "Derrick, I'm not thinking about my wedding right now. I'm thinking about _yours_. I'm just living in the here and now."

"Well, then speaking of 'here and now'," Derrick said snidely at his tone. "When are you going to introduce Claire to Westchester?"

"I was thinking tonight. Your mom invited me to dinner at your place." Cam thought it'd be a good introduction to his world without throwing Claire to the wolves with a big banquet… like one thrown by _his_ family.

Derrick sniffed another laugh. "I'll pray for you." He stopped in front of his car though and didn't unlock the door so Cam was forced to face him. His friend was unnaturally serious. "Cam, you do realize that everything is going to change the minute you take Claire to my house, don't you?"

"You know, Claire doesn't expect anything. She's never put any pressure on me when it came to my past—_or_ my future. In fact, we've never even talked about it," Cam told him impatiently. The sun was heading towards the middle of the sky and the temperature was rising. It was too hot for this. And now that he'd brought it up, Cam really was craving a slice of pizza. He was tired of his friend's ambiguous Westchester warnings.

"No, that wasn't what I meant," Derrick said, ignoring his tone again. He knew better than anyone how Cam got when it came to the people of Westchester. Derrick always had to clue Cam into these kinds of things. "It's just that… the two of you—mostly you—have been living in this idyllic fantasy of this simple young couple in Chicago lifestyle. Up until now, you've just been a guy in a band struggling to get out there." Derrick leaned against his car and eyed Cam disconcertingly. "Don't you think she's going to be in for a shock tonight?"

"What are you talking about?" Cam tried to deflect. "I _am_ a guy in a band struggling to get out there. And I don't see how Claire meeting your family is going to change things," he muttered. It wasn't like it was _his_ family.

Derrick palmed his forehead with a heavy sigh like Cam was an idiot. "Cam, don't be so fucking naïve. The moment she walks into our world, it will affect your relationship. I'm not saying it's going to be bad, but your… _daydream_ is going to be lost. You're not going to be able to go back to the way it was before, is what I'm trying to tell you." Derrick paused and looked at him with raised brows to see if he was getting it. Cam didn't say anything. "No matter what, you'll forever be transformed in her eyes. Just like all _my_ former girlfriends the fucking minute they found out I was _that_ Derrick Harrrington."

Derrick clapped a hand on Cam's shoulder to soften the words. "I'm just trying to prepare you a bit."

Cam forced himself to think about all the Derrick had just said. At least for a little while. Finally, he spoke. "I think you're wrong, Derrick. First of all, our situations are _completely_ different. My family isn't like yours. You've been groomed since day one to be the future CEO of your family business. But I wasn't. My older brother is the one that's for all this shit. _Harris_ was going to inherit everything."

Derrick shook his head at him. "Hopeless," he muttered. Cam rolled his eyes at his friend's immaturity. He turned back to Cam with a small grin on his face and threw an arm around him. "Cammy, Cammy, Cammy. _This_ is why I love you. You're the only fucking person in all of Westchester that does realize how rich you are, or should I say, how rich you'll be one day."

He pulled Cam to face him again. "Okay. Tell me your name."

Cam rolled his eyes but played along. "Cameron Fisher."

"That's right. _Fisher_. And your brother, Harris, is _disowned_. He changed his name the moment he got married. You're the only one left with the last name Fisher, even out of all your cousins."

"So?"

"My point exactly," Derrick cried, finally releasing him as if he had just told Cam an earth-shattering revelation and Cam had understood completely. He didn't. Derrick explained further, "Besides your father, you're the only real Fisher left. You _are_ the heir, whether you believe it or not. Your parents see you as their last hope, everyone adores you, and you're going to inherit the entire Fisher fortune."

Cam shook his head, partly in disbelief at his friend's presumption. But mostly at even _saying_ this shit out loud. Even with his best friend, talking about his wealth still made him uncomfortable. It was something that had been ingrained and conditioned into him at a young age.

He could still remember the first time he brought it up. He was seven years old, dropped home from school. He had asked his father at dinnertime, 'This guy in my class, Kemp Hurley says that his father is very, very rich and that we're very, very rich too. Is that true?' His father, who had been immersed in doing his work at the table, had abruptly slapped his papers down. But his mother had swooped in instantly, 'Cam, boys with _proper_ manners do not ever ask questions like that.' His father had glared at him and said, 'You do not ever ask people if they are rich or discuss matters concerning money. We are not rich; we are simply _well-off_.' His mother had reached over to smooth down his hair to soften the blow of his father's displeasure. 'Do you understand, Cameron?' she had asked. At his slow nod, she had smiled and urged, "Good, now apologize to your father.' And that had settled the matter.

Derrick continued before he could even voice his protest. "Why do you think my father, who treats everyone like shit, treats you like a visiting family member every time he sees you?"

Cam quirked his lips. "And here I thought your dad just liked me."

"My father is an _asshole_. He only cares about power, status, and expanding the Harrington Empire. That's why he fucking encouraged this whole thing with Massie from the start. He was the reason I even _went_ on a second date. And that's also why he's always controlled who I could be friends with. Shit, even as kids, I remember him saying, 'The Fishers are an acceptable family. You be nice to that Cameron boy. '"

"Your dad's going crazy with old age, I think," Cam told him with a shake of his head. He brushed Derrick off and stepped back in embarrassment. "Anyways, all this shit about inheritance is pointless anyways, because you'll see. Claire's not the kind of girl who cares about any of that. She's the least materialistic person I know."

Derrick eyed him in disbelief before shaking his head. "I give up. I fucking tried," he muttered finally unlocking his car. Then in normal volume said, "Okay, then, Cammyboy. I wish you both the best. But just a heads up, even now, everyone is trying to sabotage you. It's a fact."

"Yeah," Cam rolled his eyes. "I know. You've already warned me, my mother inexplicably decided to fly to Massachusetts the moment I arrive in New York, and I had to enlist your help to even persuade your mother to invite Claire tonight. But you know what? I don't give a fuck. _That's_ a fact." And Cam really didn't. He was secure in his relationship with Claire and he was sure nothing could break them up.

"I don't think it's your mother you have to worry about," Derrick said, stopping in his movements to get into his car.

Cam was forced to stop his movements into the passenger seat door too. "So who should I be worried about then?" he finally acknowledged with an impatient sigh. "Tell me who the fuck is going to be bored enough to _waste their time_ trying to break up my relationship?"

"Practically every single girl in Westchester _and_ their mothers," Derrick declared with a twinkle in his eye.

"What?" Cam laughed heartily. It was ridiculous. "Wait—why me? Aren't _you_ New York's most eligible bachelor?"

Derrick gave him a pitying laugh. "Everyone already knows that nothing in the world is going to stop Massie from walking down that aisle in the next two weeks. I'm a taken man. I hereby… happily pass the torch and that crown onto _you_." Derrick pointed his keys straight at Cam over his car with another shit-eating grin. "Now, you, Cam Fisher, are a marked man."

##

After a few hours touring Manhattan with Layne as her sarcastic, but witty guide, Claire was still feeling a bit out of place, so her friend suggested they head back to her hotel. "Your hotel offers free 24-hour coffee service, why not take advantage of it?" she shrugged.

Claire still felt weird about how fancy the whole hotel was, but after knowing that Claire was slowly accepting facts as they were, Layne had taken to the high life remarkable well. She made herself comfortable on the terrace café, which provided a beautiful view of the sparkling pool, while still being blessedly air-conditioned. Claire fanned herself with the café menu, she had no idea how Layne was wearing tights (even if they were sheer) and a leather vest. New York was decidedly _not_ Chicago.

"You get used to it," Layne told her as she eyed her menu. Smartly uniformed waiters in suits walked by with trays bearing trays of tea cakes, pastries, and small tarts. "We'll be having one of everything," Layne told the waiter that approached them. He didn't so much as blink, only nodded his head and headed back to the kitchen to notify the staff.

At Claire's wide eyes, Layne laughed. "What? Neither you nor Cam are paying for anything. His loaded friend sure won't care if we have a bit of fun."

Thinking back on how relaxed Derrick had been, she figured that Layne was probably right. Claire resolved to enjoy herself too. Claire eyed the guests asleep on the deck chairs asleep in the late-afternoon sun and the surrounding decorated patio and sighed at the sight. "I still can't believe Derrick's family owns this hotel," she said, accepting a plate of Belgium chocolate éclairs from a waiter.

"Believe it," Layne said through a bite of apple tart. "Everyone in New York is loaded."

Derrick had been so modest, but if everyone in New York was crazy wealthy, then maybe he was just the norm. Claire tilted her head in consideration.

"But the Harrington family must be _crazy_ rich. If the celebrities and people like the _Hurley's_ are coming to the wedding, Derrick would have to be at the top of Forbes 'Rich List' too. And those things barely graze the tip with rich people. Forbes only reports assets they can verify; most rich people hide their holdings, so they're probably richer by billions than what those magazines estimate. Shit, this is good." Layne turned to another passing waiter. "We're going to need two more of these. Claire, you have to try this too."

"Billions?" Claire wasn't so sure. A million was already a lot. She couldn't even imagine what a billion really looked like.

"It's a fact," Layne asserted casually.

Claire blinked and took a bite of the recommended strawberry shortcake, finding the subtly sweet berries with the fluffy cake addicting. She almost moaned at the delicious taste. Layne was right; she needed to stop holding onto her reservations and just enjoy herself while she could. She and Cam could talk later. What was the point in allowing those thoughts to affect her time with her best friend?

As if by destiny, Claire's phone rang. It was Cam.

"Hey, Cam," she answered with a bright smile.

"Hey, yourself. Are you having a good time with Layne?"

"Definitely," Claire told him (now that she had decided to leave her reservations behind and just go with it, it was the truth). She eyed the new plate of cake placed onto their table with excited vigor. Layne smiled at her. "We're back at the hotel enjoying the café service. What are you up to?"

"He's staring at me in my underwear!" she heard a guy's voice yell in the background. It had to have been Derrick.

"What?" Claire laughed in confusion.

Cam snorted through the phone bringing a smile to Claire's face. "I'm over at Derrick's. The tuxes just came in, and we're having the tailor make the final adjustments," he explained.

"Ooo," she hummed, taking a sip of her coffee. "Does yours fit? Shiny gold and rhinestone jewels, right?"

"You wish. Powder blue and full ruffles," he joked. Claire couldn't even imagine him wearing that for _Halloween_. "Hey, I completely forgot to tell you, but Derrick's mom always has me over for dinner whenever I'm in town. I know you might be tired after a crazy day with Layne, but do you think you might be up to it too?"

"Uh, wow," Claire stuttered, placing her cup back down. He knew that Cam considered Derrick's parents his second family, but she didn't know what to think about tagging along too. It had the potential to be kind of awkward. Like, meeting his parents. Not really, but, almost. "Dinner at Derrick's?"

Layne's head tilted up at the notion. Claire ignored her.

"Who's going to be there?" Claire thought to ask.

"Probably just a handful of people. Massie will be there."

Claire was still a bit unsure. "Um, well, what do _you_ think? Do you want me to come or would you rather spend time alone with them first?"

"Of course not," Cam told her, soothing her insecurities instantly. "I'd love for you to come, but only if you're up for it—I know it's really short notice."

Claire glanced over at Layne, deliberating. She was kind of insanely nervous to be meeting Cam's childhood friend's parents at such an intimate gathering. But Layne was urging her to say yes.

"Okay," Claire finally said. "I'd love to go. What time do we have to be there at?"

"Seven thirty is when it starts, but here's the thing. I'm already at Derrick's place on Oak Lane. The evening traffic is going to be horrible going back into the city, so it'll be much easier if you just meet me here. Would you mind taking a taxi to Derrick's? I'll give you the address and I'll be at the door when you arrive."

"Dude, Benny can take her," Derrick voice called again and there was the sound of Cam's hand covering the receiver as he had a muffled conversation with his friend. Claire waited patiently.

"Um, nevermind," Cam reappeared. "Derrick's hiring you a driver. He'll pick you up at the hotel at seven and drop you off here. If that's okay, I mean. He can drop Layne off in Brooklyn too, if she needs."

"Yeah, that sounds fine. I'll tell Layne. Tell Derrick thank you!" They said their goodbyes and Claire hung up.

"Dinner with his friend's parents?" Layne wiggled her brows when Claire dropped her phone back into her bag. "Sounds serious."

"Does it?" Claire asked nervously. She didn't know what to think. Cam made it seem casual, but meeting his second parents was pretty significant, wasn't it? It meant that she'd be meeting his parents sometime on this trip for sure too.

"It might be fancy-schmancy," Layne told her wisely as she licked her spoon. "What are you going to wear?"

"I don't know," Claire said, pushing her coffee away and platter of deserts away. If she was going to be having dinner, she would need to save her appetite. "Cam said it was only going to be a few people. I don't want to dress too fancy and make the wrong impression. Like, I'm high maintenance or something."

Layne clicked her tongue. "Claire, trust me, _no one_ would ever accuse you of being high maintenance. You bought that dress at a thrift store, didn't you?"

Claire looked down at her light purple sundress. "Farmer's Market," she corrected snidely.

"See?" Layne asked as if that settled the matter.

"You're stressing me out. Cam made it seem like it was really casual. I think I'm going to be okay. I don't think they're even going to notice, as long as I don't show up naked."

But even so, Layne had sufficiently freaked her out enough that they headed back up to her room for outfit ideas. After multiple changes, Claire decided to wear a cotton dress, patterned at the top, cinched at the waist, and flared out to her thighs in a deep blue with a pair of low heeled sandals. She layered on a few of her feather and beaded necklaces to add some personality.

"You look like Pitchfork Music Festival on safari. Free spirited, flower child, but proper. Elegant, almost, in like a Skinny Love kind of way," Layne stated, brightening Claire with the compliment. She knew her tastes were almost too preppy for her friend, but Layne was always honest.

"Hair up or down?" she asked, turning to look at the full length mirror in the walk-in closet.

Layne squinted at her. "Down. It's sexier."

Claire eyed herself. She didn't really see it, but Layne had _always_ been right about these sorts of things. She trusted her. She fluffed up her hair a little before accepting it and sat down next to Layne in the chaise lounge in the center of the closet. "Do you want Derrick's driver to give you a ride home too?"

"Yeah, I want a good eyeful of where he lives. I bet it's unreal. The amount of money he probably has is gross."

Claire giggled and they headed down to the car together.

After the hectic freeway traffic, the girls soon found themselves winding along the lush green roads of Westchester County. Claire could almost taste the difference between the city and the suburbs where Derrick lived. The neighborhood took Claire completely by surprise, as it was the first time she had seen such large, old houses on green sprawling lawns in the distance. Claire watched with wonder as the houses became far and few in between. Soon, houses were divided by what seemed like miles and she couldn't even see the houses on the extensive properties behind all the hedges and metal gates.

The driver turned left and Claire and Layne found themselves down a narrow lane with firs, spruces, and pines shielding them on both sides.

"I told you Westchester was out of this world," Layne whispered with a giggle and Claire had to agree. It _was_ like she was being transported somewhere else.

Before they knew it, the driver had pulled the car to a stop in front two white pillars framed by a huge iron wrought gate. As Claire wondered if she should call Cam to ask him what to do, a man approached, appearing from a shack hidden in the side of the road.

"Ms. Claire Lyons?" the man asked after her driver rolled down the window.

"Uh, yes, that's me," Claire answered for him, waving from the backseat.

"Welcome, Ms. Lyons," the security guard replied with a smile. "Please keep following the road, and stay to the right." He instructed the driver before opening the gates for them and waving them through.

"Jesus Christ," Layne laughed. "Do they really think all this is necessary?"

Claire didn't bother with a reply (it _was_ unnecessary) as they pulled through the gates and the car continued down the road, both sides were framed by clipped bright green hedges. As the passed those, a road descended into one paved in gravel. As the car drove steadily along, Claire listened to the crunch of the gravel and admired the neatly trimmed trees decorated with tiny fairy lights, glowing in the setting sun and lighting their way.

Claire turned to Layne, but she was observing the vast manicured grounds surrounding them on all sides with disbelieving eyes.

"I feel like we're going to some fancy resort," Claire tried joke though the words trailed off at the sight of Derrick's house in the distance, ablaze with lights. As they approached, the vastness of the place became more and more obvious.

It wasn't a house. It was more like a mansion.

Her boyfriend's best friend—the laid-back guy she had met last night—lived here. Her boyfriend had also practically grown up in a place like this. In all the stories he had told her about hanging out with Derrick at his place, he had never mentioned that it was practically a palace! She couldn't seem to wrap her mind around it.

The front driveway was littered with luxury cars—Bentleys, Mercedes, Jaguars, Rolls-Royces—watched over by a cluster of drivers and chauffeurs who were laughing and smoking on the grassy lawn. It didn't _look_ like a casual dinner. It looked more like a full-on party.

Waiting by the massive front doors, in a white linen shirt and black jeans, hair perfectly tousled from the summer air, and his hands stuffed in his pockets, stood her boyfriend, Cam Fisher. It felt like a daydream.

"Holy shit," Claire murmured to Layne. "Pinch me."

Layne turned to her, her green eyes burning with sudden intensity. "I told you these people were crazy rich. Like, Out-of-This-World Rich. ...And honestly, Claire, I think Cam is one of them."

##

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**Author's Note:** I planned to include the dinner party into this story, but this chapter ended up being way too long. Sorry I keep pushing this back. I'm horrible. I _promise_ Claire meets some people next chapter.

Review if you like?


	7. Dinner and Teams

**Author's Notes**: Thank you to **lydiamartins**, **psychotic honeybadger of death**, **anonymous, hihihi, tinatin, rweasleys, guest, tammywammy9, amazingxlivexlovexlaughx3, ****guest, **and **bullchizz155** for your reviews! I'm on a rooooooooooooooll. I have _another _chapter almost finished too. WHAT IS POSSESSING MY FINGERS.

SO CLAIRE FINALLY INTERACTS WITH PEOPLE IN WESTCHESTER. It only took, like, 6 chapters. Sorry.

/le sigh. I looked at so many mansions to find the right one for what I imagined Anna/Derrick would live in. I had so much fun. I picked the _DotCom Mansion_, holy cow. Google Image that shit for a visual. I wanted to cry because if only I had 200 million dollars too, I could live in a house like that. My goal in life is to live in a house with a hedge garden maze. I don't care how impractical they are. I want one. In America. Like, it's one thing if you're in the Secret Garden or England or something because it rains like, every two minutes. But here in America? It's a sign you've made it because who the hell would have one unless they were _insanely_ rich? The amount of water you would need and the people you'd need to hire to take care of it… Now you guys probably think I'm a weirdo and will accept anything as long as it has a hedge maze. Like, a one bedroom shack made of cardboard, BUT IN FRONT OF A HEDGE MAZE. I would probs be okay with that. I'm weird. Please ignore this.

To all my _guest reviewers_ [you should all get accounts so that I can properly respond to you]: Don't worry. Massington wedding will happen. It's the premise for the whole plot and why Clam is even in Westchester. I changed the rating per your suggestion. Thanks! I planned this PG when I started, but guy characters kind of take on a life of their own. Derrick was actually stalking Mila, though that _would_ have been a funny side story. LOL. Sorry you guys dislike clueless Cam, but there's a reason for that that I thought I made pretty clear. Ask me for a clarification and I'll write a post.

AND THIS CONCLUDES THE LONGEST AUTHOR'S NOTE EVER. Here's a dinner party chapter for you. Nothing too dramatic. There's a whole rest of the story for that.

* * *

**Chapter Six: Dinner and Teams**

##

As the driver approached the porte-cochère extending out the house, Cam bounded down the limestone front steps toward them. "Hey, I was starting to worry that you'd gotten lost," Cam joked as he opened the door for her.

"I kind of feel a bit lost, actually," Claire mumbled quietly as she stepped out and stared up at the majestic residence in front of her. Her stomach was suddenly twisted into tight knots and there must have been a car driving around doing donuts in her mind, because it was as if she was suddenly viewing everything from a thin film of haze. She smoothed out the creases in her dress nervously. "Am I really late?"

"No, no, of course not. I guess I didn't realize how hard it would be to get here," Cam told her apologetically. He leaned down and waved at Layne. "Hey, Layne. Long time no see. How have you been?"

"Right," Lanye answered slowly. She seemed to be stunned by the surrounding acres of greenery. She shook her head and met Cam's eyes with a pinched expression. "I've been good… This place—is kinda outrageous."

"Yeah," Cam sniffed with a laugh. "It's been in Derrick's family for generations."

Layne raised her eyebrows and shot Claire a look. "Okay, well, you guys have a good time. And Claire, you know what to do." Claire couldn't do anything but nod at her friend's intensity with her boyfriend standing right there. Layne mouthed the words _Call me later!_ with an eyebrow raise and a stern look that implied Claire was in for it if she didn't. "Bye, Cam. Nice seeing you again."

"Night, Layne. Get home safe," Cam called, patting the roof of the car. Claire gave her friend a quick smile and watched as the driver rolled back up the window and pulled away.

Cam wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in close. When Claire glanced up at him, he looked a little sheepish. "I hope it's okay… but it's not just Derrick's family. Anna, Derrick's mom, decided to invite a couple more people to have a small party, all at the last minute. It seems like everyone wants to meet you."

Claire bit her lip. "Sounds nice, but now I'm feeling _really_ underdressed," she replied pensively, eyeing the row of luxury cars lining the cobblestone driveway.

"Not at all. You look absolutely perfect," Cam assured her. He could obviously sense her anxiety, Claire was never really good at lying or pretending to be someone she wasn't. Cam placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her to the front doors. Claire felt the warm, electric spark radiating from his muscled arm and instantly felt a little better.

Her boyfriend was right by her side. Everything was going to be fine.

The first thing that caught Claire's eye as they entered the house were the shiny mosaic tiles sparkling from the light of the majestic chandelier in the grand foyer. The striking composition of golden brown and ivory cream captured her attention for a few moments before she realized there was a tall, spindly woman with her hair in a bun standing in the middle of the entrance room next to a circular marble table with an enormous pot of the same bright orange roses from her hotel room.

The woman tipped her head and held out a silver bowl filled with water and rose petals.

"For your refreshment, miss," she demurred.

"Uh, am I supposed to drink this?" she whispered to Cam.

"Oh no, it's for, uh—it's for washing your hands," Cam whispered back. Claire followed his instructions, dipping her fingers into the cool, rose-scented water before wiping them on the soft terry cloth napkin the woman offered next, feeling amazed (and really silly) by the ritual. Because what even?

"Everyone's already upstairs in the living room," Cam told her when she was done.

"Cam, you never told me you used to spend time in a mansion," she joked (but not really) as he grabbed her hand and led her up one side of the curved winding marble staircase.

Cam huffed a laugh. "This isn't a mansion. It's just a big house."

"Cam, where I grew up, this is a mansion," Claire corrected, gazing up at the iron framed staircase at the gallery above. _More like a palace_, Claire thought to herself. The murmur of the party guests and the slow keys of a piano could be heard as they reached the second floor landing. Claire refrained from gaping. _Holy shit_. She felt momentarily giddy at walking into a room she could only have ever imagined seeing on television or magazines or her dreams.

The 'living room,' as Cam humbly called it, was actually a gallery that spanned along the entire floor of the house. It featured sectional couches, plush velvet ottomans, quilted cabrioles, and divan club sofas causally arranged into groups for intimate seating areas. The side wall of glass window paned doors opened to a wrap-around veranda, providing a view of the lush lands surrounding the house and the sweet smell of flowers from the garden. At the far end of the room, a guy in a suit was playing on the grand piano.

As Cam led into the room, Claire had to force herself to ignore her surroundings and act as if everything was simply the norm. What she really wanted to do was gape at everything, from the classic glass chandeliers and milky lamps, to the garden urns with beautiful blooming plants, to the intricate wood-paneled wall decorations. Everything in the room seemed to be touched with a kind of elegance that made Claire scared to touch anything.

The glamorous guests, on the other hand, appeared to be completely at ease lounging in groups in chairs or mingling on the outdoor patio. A group of neatly dressed servants in tight tuxedo dresses circulated the room with trays of drinks. It was decidedly _not_ a small dinner party.

"Here comes Mrs. Block, Massie's mother," Cam muttered to her. And before Claire even had time to even recuperate from the new surroundings, the classy lady from this morning's newspapers was approaching, tsk-ing at Cam.

"Cameron, you naughty boy, why didn't you tell us you were coming back today? If I knew you were coming back so soon, _I_ would have thrown a dinner!" Kendra cried, pulling Cam into a hug and air kisses. She was dressed fashionably elegant in a Tom Browne leaf-blouse and sleek black slacks.

"Sorry, Mrs. Block. I would have thought that you would have been too busy with the wedding. Mrs. Block, meet my girlfriend, Claire Lyons. Claire, this is Kendra Block, Massie's mother.

Kendra nodded at her, offering her a small smile, boldly scanning her up and down.

"It's so nice to meet you," Claire remarked, trying not to be unnerved by her hawk like gaze. She was more intimidating than her daughter.

"The same, my dear," Kendra finally acknowledged, before turning quickly back to Cam. "Do you know when your parents get back in for the wedding?"

"Not a clue," he replied with a shrug. Cam knew Claire must be feeling out of place right now. He had grown up around these people, so even if he hadn't seen them in a while, it was less awkward than meeting them all for the first time. It must have been overwhelming for Claire, he thought, and he'd never been good in social situations. He looked around for a familiar face for her. "Has Massie arrived yet?" he asked.

"Oh, you know how long Massie takes to get ready. She's always late to these things." At that moment, Kendra spotted a redheaded woman heading up the stairs. "Merri-Lee, when did you get back from St. Tropaz?" she called, heading over to the woman as Cam tugged Claire out of the way.

"Oh my god," Claire said faintly. "Is that Merri-Lee Marvil? And her daughters?"

"Yeah, they live down on the edge of town. I went to school with Dylan over there. I'll introduce you later when Mrs. Block's done."

"They're all so much more stunning than in magazines." Claire couldn't help but be star struck.

"It's weird to think about honestly. I always forget they're on a reality show now," Cam told her as they headed over toward the bar. They unknowingly walked right into the path of one of the most beautiful girls Claire had ever seen. Dressed in a bright red lace Belensi dress that popped against her tan skin and sky-high Manolos (that would have broken Claire's ankles if she tried them on), the girl was a vision. She pounced on Cam. Claire blinked in surprise.

"Cam!" she squealed, pressing her whole body against him and squeezing him tightly. She completely ignored Claire.

Cam pulled away awkwardly. "Uh, hey Alicia. How's it going?"

"It's been really, really good. I've been involved with so many charities lately and I've had a string of photo shoots all over Manhattan," Alicia thrilled, her manicured hand still on Cam's arm. Claire couldn't believe how obvious this girl was being. She was standing right there and was obviously Cam's date. She would have been a little pissed if Cam hadn't grabbed her hand back immediately after Alicia released him.

Her boyfriend cleared his throat. It was obvious to Claire (and apparently not to Alicia) that he didn't really care. "Alicia, this is my girlfriend, Claire Lyons. Claire, this is Alicia Rivera. We were in the same grade at school," Cam introduced.

"Ah, _Claire_," Alicia smiled sweetly, as if she had only just noticed her. She swiped her dark glossy hair over her shoulder and held out her hand. Claire felt like she was watching a shampoo commercial, except nothing was airbrushed. "I met your cousin Lalia Lyons in New York at a benefit last week."

"Uh, no, you must be mistaken," Claire corrected politely. "I don't have family in New York."

"Oh." Alicia furrowed her brows. "Where is your family from then?"

"I live in Chicago, but I was raised in South Carolina."

Alicia looked surprised, her eyes widening, before that same sweet smile replaced it. "Oh, I must have gotten it wrong then."

Claire didn't know how to fill the awkward silence. Alicia had stated the obvious. Cam excused them and extracted himself from her grip and led Claire away. The next half hour was a blur of nonstop greetings, as Claire was introduced to all of Cam's parent's friends and extended 'family'. There were people he grew up knowing through his parents, there was the actual Mayor of New York, there were a few distinguished scholars that had intimidated Claire, and there were multiple celebrities that left her totally dazzled.

The entire time though, Claire had noticed a woman who seemed to command the attention of the entire room. She was aristocratic looking, with straight posture and long blonde hair clipped in a bun, dressed in a beautiful flowing haften gown. A stern looking man in a posh tuxedo sat next to her, chatting with a few of what looked like his work associates. Most of the guests orbited the room paying them tribute. When Cam finally led her over to them, Claire guessed that these were Derrick's parents.

As Cam made the proper introductions, Claire found herself oddly nervous. It wasn't as if these were _Cam's_ parents, Claire tried to tell herself. _This was nothing_, she assured herself, _like meeting a friend's parents_.

"It's such a pleasure to meet you," she blurted the moment Cam finished their introductions. "Thank you so much for inviting me to your beautiful home. This is just absolutely—_lovely_," Claire choked on the last word awkwardly and for some reason in her nervousness, curtsied as if she were meeting royalty. She straightened up quickly with a bright flush.

Derrick's mom looked at her quizzically and replied slowly. "It's nice to meet you too, darling, but there's no need to be so formal. It's just a simple last minute dinner."

"Of course," Claire answered hollowly, feeling all eyes in the room on her, amused by her actions.

"Please, Claire," Anna smiled slightly. "Make yourself comfortable. Cam has told me quite a bit about you, and I was looking forward to meeting you. Thank you for coming," she said haltingly before turning back to her conversation with her husband and the men in tuxedos.

"He has?" Claire asked, flustered. "You have?"

Cam put his arm over Claire's shoulder and steered her away. "Let's get a drink," he said, leading her over toward a bar where a uniformed bartender was serving drinks and taking requests.

"Ohmygod, ohmygod," Claire whispered, fanning herself. "That was the most awkward moment of my life. I'm so embarrassed. Did I annoy her or something?"

"Of course not," Cam soothed her instantly, handing her a glass of punch that the bartender was scooping out of a huge glass bowl. "She was just in the middle of a conversation, that's all."

"Oh, right," she replied, stupefied. She accepted the glass of punch from him, noticing that the fine embedded imprints in the glassware perfectly matched the intricate framework of the domed ceiling. She leaned against a sofa for support, feeling completely overwhelmed. It was all too much for her: the glamorous and sophisticated guests, the many well-dressed servants circling the room, the confusion of so many new faces, the mind blowing wealth and luxury. How could she ever have imagined that Cam would know so many grand people? How could she ever have known that Cam was _one_ of them?

And why didn't he prepare her for all this?

Claire felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around to see Derrick's fiancée, waving her fingers at her. "Massie," she cried in relief, a friendly recognizable face a last. Massie was wearing the chicest outfit Claire had ever seen, a tight lace peasant blouse and pearl-grey cigarette pants and long dangling multi-colored earrings, completely different from how she remember her from last night. This was obviously Massie in her natural habitat.

"Hey, hey," Massie called cheerfully, pulling her into a hug. She smelled like good, sultry like jasmines. "How are you finding New York so far? Are you having a good time?"

"An awesome time, though tonight… has been… It's just a bit overwhelming."

"I can only imagine," Massie replied with a knowing glint in her amber eyes.

"No, I'm not sure you can," Claire found herself replying before really filtering. She widened her blue eyes, but Massie didn't seem to be offended. There was a slight grin on her face before she turned to Cam. "Anna's about to serve dinner. She asked you if you could help Derrick and me out with those Venetian plates. You remember how she doesn't trust the help with them." She turned to Claire and rolled her eyes at the absurdity.

"Of course," Cam replied instantly. He turned to Claire. "We'll be back in a minute. If the dinner bell rings, just get started. I'll find you in a bit."

But the moment Cam and Massie disappeared down the stairs, Claire heard what must have been the dinner bell ring. Claire watched as the crowd began to make a beeline for the stairs and followed slowly after. A full buffet dinner had been set up in a side sun parlor, an octagon shaped room with glass walls. Three giant tables gleamed with silver platter dishes and the glass doors opened to the backyard terrace where there were white wrought-iron tables with tall thin lantern lights, scattered around the cobblestone patio like a high class bistro.

Claire marveled the variety of foods offered. One table was filled with French meats and delicacies, the other with classic Italian, and the final with deserts. And like at any other buffet, Claire was at a lost for what to eat first. She decided to start with the classic Italian, helping herself to a small bit of each type of pasta. She stopped in front of a platter of what looked like caviar, weird cheese, and Irish soda crackers.

"Iranian beluga caviar and Stilton bleu with fig preserves," a voice answered her unasked question.

"Oh, wow," Claire responded. She turned and saw a guy in deep green revealing v-neck and slim fitted chinos cuffed to show off his bright yellow loafers.

"Try it," he nodded, but Claire wasn't so sure. She wasn't a big fan of cheese. Or slimy things. She told him so. "I'm Josh Hotz," he introduced after a hearty laugh.

"Nice to meet you," Claire said again for the millionth time today. "I'm Claire—"

"Oh, I know," Josh cut her off. "Claire Lyons, not of _Lyons Motorcars_, but of the Art Institute of Chicago, in Chicago, Illinois, and before that, South Carolina. Everyone's talking about you."

"They are?" Claire asked, trying not to sound surprised, even though she really was. She blushed a bit and prayed that it wasn't about or from her embarrassing faux pas with Anna.

"They are, though you're way prettier than I was led to believe."

"Really?" Claire assumed he was joking. She smiled incredulously. "From who?"

"Oh, you know, here and there. The gossip channel. Don't you know how much people have been talking about you since you've arrived?" Josh asked her with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Claire blinked in surprise. "Um, no… I had no idea," she replied uneasily, walking out into the terrace with her plate, craning to look for Cam or Massie or Derrick. They were nowhere to be found. She noticed Merri-Lee Marvil and her daughters eyeing her unnervingly as she scanned the tables.

"Oh, there are the Marvilous Marvils. Don't look—but I think they're waving you over. God help us. Let's just start our own table." And before Claire could even respond, Josh had grabbed her plate out of her hands and was walking it over to a table at the far end of the terrace.

"Um, why are you avoiding them?" Claire asked in surprise and confusion. She would have thought that everyone would be clamoring to eat with celebrities.

"I'm not avoiding them," Josh told her with a raised brow as he settled down with his plate of lobster pappardelle, arribaita, and fra divolo. "I'm helping _you_ avoid them. You can thank me later."

"Why?" Claire pressed on, folding her arms over her chest. She didn't take a seat.

"Well, first of all," Josh flicked a finger out and pointed his fork at her. "They're horrible name-droppers, always going on and on and on about their latest cruise at what's-his-name's yacht at St. Tropaz and or their most recent dramatic episode and how many viewers they reached or their lunch with some other random irrelevant B-list celebrity. So annoying and _so_ obvious and you'll never get a real word in. And second, but most importantly, they're not on your side."

"Side?" Claire asked, slowly sinking down into the wicker seat in front of her plate of food.

"Yep. Side. The Team-Claire side. And Dylan and Ryan Marvil are decidedly on the opposite side of that spectrum. And Merri-Lee is back so soon from her vacation on this exact night precisely to spy on you for the opposition."

"Spying? Opposition?" She felt so confused.

"Again, _yep_. They mean to pick you apart like a rotting carcass and serve you up to the masses."

She had no idea what to make of a statement like that. She eyed him again. He had an open face, purposely mused dark hair, and wide brown eyes. He also seemed like a character straight from a movie. He didn't speak _normal_. But then again, nobody here did.

"I'm not sure I understand," Claire said finally, taking a bite of her pasta too.

"Don't worry, you will." Josh winked. "You look like a fast learner. I'd bet you'll pick it all up in week, tops."

Again, Claire didn't know how to take a statement like that. _Was that a compliment?_ she wondered. She decided to move onto another topic. Claire chewed before speaking, "So, um, how do you know the Harringtons?"

"We're in the same circles, but then again, everyone in Westchester runs in the same circles. We're all like one big, nosy, extended family. I went to school with Derrick." Josh eyed her. "And your boyfriend too. We were buds."

"Oh, sorry. I had no idea. Cam… didn't talk about school or… his past much." She twirled her angel haired pasta around her fork slowly.

"Yeah, that's Cam for you." Josh clicked his tongue. "He hasn't been back to Westchester for this long since he left for college. Who would have thought it'd take Derrick's wedding to bring him back. And even that was an unexpected surprise."

"Cam coming back?" Claire asked for clarification. "Or Derrick getting married?"

"Cam coming back," Josh confided. "He told me he was done with this psychological prison and that he was gone forever graduation day. Derrick getting married couldn't have been a surprise, even if they tried to keep anything on lock. Everyone knew this was the next big step in Chase Harrington's grand plan."

Claire had _so_ many questions from those two statements that she couldn't even voice them. Her mind whirled. She decided to start with, "Psychological prison?"

"Westchester, baby," Josh answered instantly.

Claire nodded slowly. "And Chase Harrington's plan?"

"Well, Massie's the only girl Derrick's age with acceptable wealth, lineage, and old money background. The trifecta. You know, she's descended from Alfred Royden. A strategic move, bound in vows 'til death do they part. Everyone saw it from coming miles away."

"A strategic move for what?" Claire asked in growing horror.

"Oh come on, Claire." Josh raised his brows. "Don't play dumb. You're smarter than that. For the _money_, of course. It joins together two family fortunes with no fear of underhanded divorce settlements, unjust swindling, or loss of property and status. It keeps everything neatly locked up."

"Who's getting lock up? Are they finally locking you up, Hotz?" Cam asked as he approached their table with Massie and Derrick.

"They'll never be able to pin anything on me," Josh retorted without missing a beat. Claire smiled as Cam slid into a seat next to her. She couldn't help but notice now that all eyes were on them and their table. "Holy shit, those earrings," Josh cried with wide eyes when he spotted Massie. "Wherever did you get them?"

"Fourtané, Austro-Hungarian amethysts," Massie answered in detail, knowing that Josh would want to know.

"Of course they are. Only they would sell something like that. Those must have cost at least half a million dollars. Not something I would have thought was your style, but you always surprise me," Josh pondered with a head shake.

"I try, Joshy, I try," Massie smirked, before leaving with Derrick to make rounds.

Claire stared with renewed wonder at the earrings as they left. _Did Josh really say half a million dollars? _"How did it go with the plates?"

"Good. Anna's just really overprotective about stupid things like that," Cam responded, rubbing her hip soothingly. It gave her tingles. "I see you've found and made friends with the only sane person here."

"And this friend is sane enough to realize when he's a third wheel," Josh announced, before giving them a jaunty wave and picking up his plate to head back the buffet tables for seconds. As he left, Cam pulled Claire up from her seat.

"Come on, I want to show you something," he told her. Claire followed him through a side door from the sun parlor, and they wandered down a long hallway with framed paintings that she didn't recognize, but could tell were renowned, and past darkened rooms that she longed to peek into. Cam finally led her through an arched doorway at the end of the passage and Claire's brow rose.

It was like they stumbled into a secret garden. A vast lawn was framed by huge hedge bushes enclosing them on all sides. Cam led her through the maze with an ease that told her he'd walked this path a hundred times. After they made some dizzying turns and Claire had thoroughly lost all sense of direction, they appeared at an entrance with elaborately carved white columns.

Overhead, tiny lanterns were meticulously threaded through the hedge branches. They flickered and glowed softly, lighting the square clearing. A marble fountain stood at the center, spouting streams of water from a painstakingly detailed stone quartz statue. She felt kind of magical standing in this hidden alcove.

"I wanted to show you this place at least before dessert and before I missed the chance," Cam told her in a hushed voice.

"_Wow_," Claire breathed in awe as she spun around the clearing, taking in all the different type of wildflowers growing around her. "This is _beautiful_."

"No, Claire, _you're_ beautiful," he told her lowly, pulling her into his arms.

"Pinch me, please," Claire whispered as she stared up into Cam's blue-and-green eyes. "No, really. I mean it this time. Is _any_ of this real life?"

"This is very real."

_He wasn't talking about Westchester_, she realized, as he tilted her head up. And despite feeling like she was in a whole other world, Claire didn't feel like _Cam_ was any different. He was still the same old romantic. He kissed her and Claire slumped against him, leaning into him as she lifted onto her toes up to deepen this kiss. He tasted like berry punch, passion, and promises.

##

* * *

**Author's Note**: The dinner party is not over! I had to cut it in half because it was getting ridiculously long. I add way too much unnecessary details, oops. The second part of the party will be posted really soon. Important plot points happen, so... yeah. Be on the lookout.

Review if you like? The next chap is almost done. I'll post tomorrow if I get a lot of readers.


	8. Dessert and Opposition

Author's Note: Thank you times a million to **psychotic honeybadger of death**, **lydiamartins**,** anonymous**, **cerulean cascades**, **Amazingxlivexlovexlaughx3,** **bullchizz155,** **guest**, **kneexsocks,** **hihihi**, **fjsms**, & **rweasleys** for your amazing reviews. You are my inspiration.

Okay. So, I have this legit problem where I write Cam/Claire as dream fluff and Derrick/Massie as pure snark. I can't help it, I don't know why. Someone teach me another way. That's all that ever comes out of me when I try writing these pairings. Please forgive me.

Here's the second part of the dinner party. A look into Derrick/Massie dynamic and Josh reveals some interesting information.

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Desserts and Opposition**

##

"Here," Derrick Harrington called, holding out a dessert plate of colorful macaroons for his fiancée as he entered the staff kitchen. The state-of-the-art kitchen was all chrome and filled with counters and moving tables specifically for the dinner parties his mother threw. The staff had already cleared out the area, only a few people were still in there, transporting platters outside and another putting on the finishing touches. "Eat up, Block. You're too thin as it is."

"Thank you," she joked.

"That wasn't a compliment," he scowled.

"Did you talk to him?" his fiancée asked, with an eye roll of acceptance as she took the plate. She hopped up on one of the recently wiped down chrome counters and crossed her legs, taking a bite of a green tea macaroon.

"I tried," he responded, eyeing the chocolate chiffon cake in the corner being frosted by a worker. "You know Cam's clueless about these things."

"Well, is this even what he wants? Escalating things to the next level? What is he thinking, bringing her here? She's not cut out for Westchester. It's like he _wants_ her to be eaten alive."

"He told me it was just a vacation together," Derrick shrugged.

"Come on, Derrick. It's not a _just_ a 'vacation together'. That's not how girls think, and you know it. They've been dating for how long now? A year? Two?"

The blond scoffed. "And what? You think they're going to get married?"

"That's _precisely_ what everyone is thinking. And I bet you, Claire's thinking about it _most_ of all," Massie told him, holding out her plate of dessert, but Derrick waved her away. Massie shrugged, taking a bite out of a strawberry one. She only liked to take one bite of each. Massie was all about controlling her cravings.

"Why does shit like this always have to be filled with significance for you girls?" Derrick rolled his eyes, leaning back against the counter. This was why he always hated getting the female perspective; it always left things twenty times more complicated than it was before. Massie was always trying to explain these things to him. He preferred the devious, devil-may-care side of her better than the one who wanted a hand in everything.

"I promise you Cam's not thinking anything like that. I think he just wants to show her New York." Derrick thought about his friend's comments today and then admitted slowly, "And I think part of him wants to see how she'll react to it."

"And by 'it,' you mean Westchester," Massie elaborated. "Like, his parents and his friends and his house and _everything_."

Derrick was forced to nod. His friend was setting off and blowing up land mines without even realizing it. He hadn't even realized how serious it was for Cam with Claire until Massie had forced him to face it. His friend had always been so sheltered by his parent's blatant favoritism of his older brother. Or maybe it was just all the years he spent away from Westchester. He was out of touch. In their world, you just _didn't_ bring home an unknown girl unannounced. He probably hadn't even realized he was making steps toward the white alter.

"She's all wrong for this, you know," Massie told him matter-of-factly, setting her plate down on the counter and slipping off of her perch in front of him. She straightened her blouse and smoothed down the creases in her pants. "She has no background, no etiquette training, no money, and worst of all; she's way too _nice_ for this world. The girls are all waiting for the go-ahead to pounce. She's lucky Kristen wasn't here tonight, otherwise Dylan and her would be in a full on competition to get his attention."

"Your friends are crazy, Block. You know that right?" Derrick shook his head in disbelief.

He watched as Massie ignored his comment to riffle through hidden drawers and slide open chrome cabinets in his kitchen.

"What are you looking for?" he finally asked impatiently.

"I'm looking for that Silver Tips white tea that your maid always makes for me. She's got me addicted." Massie mused, ruffling through the contents of his sauce pantry.

"You're really habitual with food, you know. Truffles, macaroons, and white tea," he snorted, pulling her out of the way by her waist and reaching over her head for the box of tea leaves hidden on the top shelf. "It'd be really easy to assassinate you."

"Why don't you try, then?" Massie taunted as she grabbed the box from his hands.

"I don't need to." Derrick tugged the box back. He shook his head at her with a click of his tongue. "You're going to make plenty enemies all on your own, playing God and thinking you know best. You're basically pitting girls against each other. I still don't know why any of them listen to you."

Massie laughed, wrestling the box of tea from his hands. She gestured at herself, like _look at me_. He did, admiring her in the bright florescent lights. He raised a brow and she smirked, "Bitches know when they meet a superior model. It's in the pheromones."

"Oh shut up," Derrick laughed, pushing her head away and snatching the box back. Massie stuck her tongue out at him while she fixed the hair he had mused.

"Why?" she snapped. "That's not what you said last night."

The worker icing the cake in the corner glanced up at them in surprise. He snickered at Massie's sudden flush of embarrassment at the attention. He rarely got to see it and even more rarely, witnessed her causing it to herself. Massie slapped him in the arm until he stopped. "Alright, _alright_, okay."

"Maybe they're doing they'll be doing them a favor," she mused slowly, changing the subject back and tilting her head.

"Who, your friends?"

She turned to look at Derrick and shrugged a shoulder. "I mean, Cam didn't even prepare her for any of this. I feel _bad_ for her, honestly. He tossed her right into the deep end and now it's a test to see if she sinks or swims. I don't know. Maybe it's for the best. All or nothing. I'll warn her, of course, and maybe… No. Nevermind, the sooner Claire realizes that she doesn't belong, the less heartache for the both of them, right?"

Derrick didn't know what to say. He had meant his words to his friend this morning. Claire was good for Cam. And she might be the right one for Cam, but Massie was also correct, she wasn't right for _Westchester_. She was too normal for the insanity that was their hometown. Still, he hated that Massie was so blatant and nonchalant about all this. Would Claire really not be able to adapt, though? Massie seemed on the fence about whether or not she'd be able to, but Derrick was a bit more assured. Cam must have seen _something_ in her.

He opened the box opened the box in his hands and peered inside. "Do you even _know_ how to make this type of tea?"

"No," Massie admitted. She adopted a pout. "Make it for me?"

"Just get out of here." Derrick rolled his eyes. Massie pressed a kiss to his cheek before flouncing back out towards the party.

##

"Please tell me this is how everyone in Westchester eats every single night," Claire said as she tried not to drool at the long banquet table of desserts. The selection was more varied than the café service at the St. Sherry's. There were elaborate cakes, complex soufflés, diverse tarts, arrays of sweet puddings, and assorted flavored éclairs. Servers with white aprons stood behind each stand ready to serve.

"Well, tonight was actually leftovers night for Derrick," Cam deadpanned.

Claire elbowed him in the ribs.

"Ow," her boyfriend cried, rubbing his side jokingly. "And here I was going to offer you a slice of the best chocolate cake in the world."

"I just stuffed my face with twelve different types of pasta. I don't think I could eat any more," Claire moaned, pressing her hand against her stomach. She waved Cam ahead of the line and turned away from the tempting sight of the dessert table. She walked around the terrace, eyeing the huge urn pots of plants surrounding the patio.

She had never seen such an array of flowers. The one closest to her was brimming with a tangle of long stems, scattered with adorable dangling hood shaped purple and white flowers with long curving petals.

"Those are wild monkshood, you know," Josh offered, appearing beside her. "They're under conservation watch in New York. Anna's garden's won a million awards just for growing them. Not that she gardens."

"Wow," Claire breathed, taking in the small tiny flowers. Who would have imagined? As she walked around the Harrington side yard with Josh, Claire noticed Cam near the desert table chatting intensely with a striking lady in a Chanel suit.

"Who's that woman, talking to Cam?" she asked. "I don't think I was introduced."

Josh turned. "Oh, that's Jacklyn Ryan. An old Fisher family friend."

Claire tilted her head in consideration. "She looks like a movie star," she commented in awe.

"Yes, doesn't she?" Josh tilted his head too. "Her husband's is one of America's most esteemed plastic surgeons. Rumor has it he wears these special lambskin gloves to protect his skilled hands from—anything really, weather, wear and tear, dirt."

"_What_?" Claire laughed at the absurdity. "No way."

"You're right. All rumors," Josh conceded.

"She looks so natural," Claire mused as they observed Jacklyn with her perfectly permed blonde hair and ballerina-like figure. "I don't even see it."

"Well, rumor has it that Jacklyn was a beauty even _before_ she met Mr. Ryan. Toured France as the 'companion' of a Monte Carlo gambling tycoon, married Mr. Ryan and then divorced, married a British marquis and then widowed—quite the scandal—and then back together again with Mr. Ryan here in Westchester. We all really tend to stick in the same circles. There was story I heard growing up here in Westchester: Jacklyn's beauty was so legendary that when she visited Europe for the first time, her arrival attracted a horde of admirers at the airport. Men clamored over each other to propose to her and fights broke out in the Terminals. It made the European papers, apparently. I always thought that it was a pity she's never done anymore more with herself than disarm men with her looks."

"All that because of her beauty," Claire mused with wide eyes.

"Well, yeah, that. And her bloodline. She's the granddaughter of Warren Buffet."

"Um, who?" Claire asked, hating that she was so clueless about these apparently big named people.

"One of New York's most revered philanthropists. Built schools all over the world or something. Not the Jacklyn is following in his footsteps, unless you count the fake charity balls all the ladies of Westchester throw and donations to Manolo Blahnik," Josh joked and Claire giggled.

"Do you want another piece of juicy gossip?" Josh quipped as they watched Jacklyn lean in close to Cam.

"Please," Claire told him, amused.

"I'm told Cam's grandfather really wanted Jacklyn very, very much for Cam's dad. Her lineage is practically impeccable, but she didn't succeed in winning Matthew over."

"He wasn't swayed by her looks?" Claire asked with a raised brow.

"Well, he already had another beauty on his hands—Cam's mother. New money, it was quite the scandal apparently. You haven't meant dear Ella yet, have you?"

Claire blinked at the new information. "No, she apparently went away for the weekend, Cam told me."

"Hmm, interesting. Mrs. Fisher never leaves or goes anywhere when Cam is in town. He so rarely visits as it is. She takes all the time she can get with her youngest son," Josh mused, licking his lips with relish. He turned and eyed the terrace, making sure they were alone and that no one was in earshot before leaning in closer to her. Claire mirrored his movements. "I'd be extra careful around Ella Fisher if I were you. She maintains the rival court and her minions are your rival opposition."

Claire straightened up instantly, not knowing if she should be offended. Rival of whom? Opposition of what? _Her_?

"Why are you telling me this?" Claire demanded of him. Was this a trick or something to get her to be on guard with Cam's parents? She hadn't even met them yet. She wasn't even one hundred percent sure if she _would _on this trip. Why would Cam's mom have minions that were her rivals? Was Josh trying fluster her up and have her obsessed with these kinds of questions so that she'd mess up in front of them? Or was Josh just messing with her for fun? "What are you gaining from this?"

Josh didn't seem surprised by the steel in her voice. Instead, he seemed to be appraising her. "I'm telling you all this, Claire, because I understand what it's like to be new to the world of Westchester. It's a whole new set of cards, baby. All the rules and plays you think you know are out the window. As for what I gain, I'm sure you'll remember who helped you out from the start when that Fisher princess-cut diamond engagement ring is on your finger."

Josh snickered when she spluttered from shock. A _what _ring?

##

Cam stood at one end of the desserts table, wondering what to have first, the dark chocolate fudge brownie and ice cream, the blancmange with fruit sauce, or the chocolate cake.

"Anna's cook's chocolate chiffon cake!" Jacklyn thrilled as she stepped up next to Cam, running her fingers through her shoulder length curls and smiling at him. "Now, _this_ is the reason I make it a point to always show up to her dinner parties. So tell me, Cameron, why haven't you been calling Livia? You've only seen her a couple of times since you moved to Chicago."

"Oh," Cam replied slowly. "Well, we tried getting together a few times these past years, but she's always busy. Isn't she dating some high-profile surfer?"

"It's not serious," Jacklyn chuckled, waving her hand as if to brush the comment away. "That man is twice her age."

"I see her pictures on television sometimes," Cam shrugged.

"And that's exactly the problem. That has to stop. It's so _unseemly_. I want my daughter to mix with quality people, not the so called California jet set. Surfers and reality stars and B-list celebrities. All those pretenders are riding Livia's coattails, using her for her name and money—she's just too naïve to see that."

"Oh. Somehow I doubt Olivia's that naïve," Cam told her with a small laugh.

"She needs _proper_ company, Cameron," Jacklyn continued as if she hadn't heard his comment. "Our own kind, upstanding people like yourself. I worry about her. She's so far away and barely ever answers my calls, its gives me heartache. I want you to look out for her. Will you promise to do that for me?"

"Uh, yeah, of course," he nodded absentmindedly, offering his plate up for a slice of cake to the server. "I kind of spoke to her last month, but she told me that she was too busy to come back for Derrick's wedding."

"Yes… and that's a shame, isn't it?"

"I'll call her when I'm back in Chicago or if I'm ever in California. But I think I'm far too boring for Olivia nowadays."

"No, of course not!" Jacklyn shook her head roughly. "What nonsense," she laughed. "Livia would benefit from spending more time with you. You two were so close once upon a time… Now tell me about that charming girl you've brought home to meet everyone. She's a sweetheart, isn't she? I see she's already won over Derrick, Massie, Josh, and all your little friends."

##

Claire was sitting down at a white iron wrought table watching a woman in a flowing silk gown play the violin near the end of the terrace for guests. She was mesmerized by the speed of the woman's fingers and the melody traveling the entire yard.

Her attention was pulled away by Massie slipping into the seat beside her.

"How are you doing?" the brunette asked her with a raised brow.

"Good," Claire answered. With, Josh's words running in her ears, she found it weird to talk to Massie without wanting to get the gossip she had heard off her chest. Were she and Derrick really getting married for money? They had seemed so genuine together when they had picked her up at the airport. And was she really the same Block as the ones branded on all railroads across the country? Was _everyone_ here not only rich, but famous or gorgeous or important or _something_? It was unbelievable. "Uh, really good. This place—Derrick's house is amazing."

"It's something, alright." Massie quirked her lips into a wry grin. "Though it's nothing compared to some of the other houses in Westchester. Been in families for generations and all that jazz."

A redhead making her way over to them captured Massie's attention. There was a subtle shake of her head and Claire turned to see what was happening. Dylan Marvil faltered and changed course to the dessert table. Claire wondered at the exchange. Massie turned back to her with a smile. "This is different from your Chicago life, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is," Claire admitted, wondering where Massie was going with this. Claire had never been a stranger to money. She'd bordered the poverty lines before, sure, but when she moved to South Carolina her mother had made it sort of big as a real estate agent and Claire had seen her share of nice things and she'd been pretty well off working odd photography jobs in Chicago until she met Amy. She'd just never seen anything up to the level of Westchester. She could never even have _imagined_ it.

The wealth and the luxury was mindboggling. Nothing could have prepared for her this.

"You should know, Claire," Massie hummed, "that this is nothing yet."

Before Claire could come up with a suitable response to the half-warning, Derrick slid into the empty seat besides Massie, holding a cup of steaming hot tea and a plate of half-eaten chocolate cake. He handed the cup of tea to Massie and held out the plate of cake to Claire. "Claire, you've got to try this—it's one of our cook's greatest hits."

"Ew, Derrick." Massie cried, shoving the plate away before Claire could accept. "Get her a proper slice of her own."

"No need," Cam said, appearing behind her and presenting Claire her own plate of cake. Claire accepted it and the small fork with a bright thanks. She took a small bite, her eyes popping open instantly. It was a delicious combination of chocolate and cream, with airy dissolve in your mouth fluffiness.

"See? It tastes like what it's like to have sex with me," Derrick joked with an eyebrow wiggle through a mouthful of his own cake.

Massie elbowed him instantly. "How could a slice of cake be selfish?" she retorted.

Cam and Massie cracked up at the expression on Derrick's face. Cam learned into Claire and whispered, "They're always like this."

Claire giggled. "It really is good, though. I like that it's not too sweet, but not too chocolaty either," she mused, taking another bite of her cake and closing her eyes.

"This is why I could never eat any other chocolate cake. I've been spoiled by Derrick's cook. They're always too spongy, or too sweet, or something weird," Cam told her, taking a bite of his own slice.

"If you get me the recipe, I could try making it at home," she smiled at him with a small shrug.

Massie arched her brow, taking a sip of her tea. "You can try, Claire, but trust me, my own cook has tried. It just never comes out this good. I think Derrick's cook is withholding a secret ingredient. Cam could probably try getting it out of her, since he's her favorite, but—"

"Cam's always been scared of her," Derrick told her with glee, recovering nicely from his fiancée's low blow.

"You were?" Claire turned to her boyfriend with raised brows.

"Oh yeah, Cam used to finish his food last on purpose just to make sure she'd be gone from the kitchen. He'd sneak into the room, toss his plates into the sink, and then run for cover."

"Cam was the biggest wimp," Massie teased.

"Please stop discussing my secret shame. I still have nightmares of her smothering hugs," Cam told them all.

After a few more minutes of playful teasing, Derrick and Massie stood to chat with other people and Cam left to grab another plate of dessert for the two of them to share. Claire continued to people watch, still marveling at everything around her. She watched as Dylan Marvil and Alicia Rivera take a selfie together, observed Derrick and Massie's father's sitting with a cluster of men engrossed in a heated political debate with the Mayor, and the surveyed the courtyard filled with illustrious laughing people sipping imported French champagne.

She breathed in the lovely smell of beautiful exotic flowers and savored the sound of complicated string music drifting through the yard. The slight summer breeze in the air sent the copper lanterns strung up around her to swaying, like hundreds of glowing orbs in a drifting ocean in the darkening sky. Claire felt like she was floating along with them, swept up in some bizarre amazing dream.

She wondered if life with Cam would always be like this.

##

"Is your girlfriend having a good time?" Anna asked Cam while they were out of earshot of everyone else.

"Yes, Mrs. H. She's having a great time. Thank you again for inviting her," Cam replied with a smile. He knew how hard it was for Anna to accept anyone outside of her social circles to one of these parties and even more so, a stranger. It had taken Derrick's help to even get her to consider it.

"She's the talk of the town. Everyone is either trying to tactfully ask me about her or trying tactfully to _tell_ me things about her."

"Really?" Cam asked in surprise. "What have they been saying?"

"Some are wondering what she's really doing here. What it means. Alicia's been all flustered up."

Cam felt his face pinch. "What does Alicia have to do with Claire?"

"Oh, darling, you know how these things are. She's concerned for you. Thinks you're going to be trapped."

"Trapped?" Cam echoed hollowly, defensively. "I'm just on vacation with Claire, Mrs. H. Not that it's really any of her business, but there's nothing to be concerned about."

"That's _exactly_ what I told her." Anna smiled fondly at him. "I told her you're a smart man, that you would never do anything without your family's proper blessings. Alicia is just being Alicia. It seems that the ending up in the papers isn't enough for her these days. She looks for more drama wherever she goes."

"Would you like me to bring Claire over, Mrs. H? So that you can get to know her better?" Cam ventured carefully.

"You know I won't be able to stand all the craning necks and gossiping masses if that happens. Why don't you just both come to stay with us this week? It's so silly to be staying at our ratty hotel when we have so many guest rooms, right here at the estate, closer to home."

Cam was thrilled to hear those words from someone he considered a second family. It seemed that he had her seal of approval of Claire now. He always knew from the very beginning that Claire would be able to charm everyone. "That sounds awesome, Mrs. H. But I'd have to ask Claire how she'd feel about that. Thank you."

##

In a deserted corner of a darkened guest room of the Harrington estate, Jacklyn Ryan stood in front of huge window overlooking the garden terrace and the party outside.

She was in the midst of a heated conversation with her youngest daughter in California.

"Stop making excuses!" Jacklyn hissed into her cell phone, fuming angry. "I don't _care_ what you've told the press. Do what you have to do, say what you have to say, but make _sure_ you're back by tomorrow evening!"

She ended the call with a jab of her finger, looking outside to make sure no one had heard her raised voice. Life continued on below outside without her.

There could be no denying that Cam looked completely smitten with the Lyons girl, but her Livia was a beauty no one could deny. An exquisite work of art destined to be part of the finest collection.

A collection she herself had once failed to become a part of, once upon a time.

But Jacklyn had learned her lesson in humility once. And that was all that was needed. Timing was _everything_.

And destiny was giving her a second chance. Because with Ella knowing the consequences of new money latching on now, Jacklyn knew just who she would prefer. Ella hated anything that reminded her of her old self. Olivia was the best match available for Cam in Westchester now. Old money she just couldn't afford to turn away, especially if the opposition was a gold digging _nobody_ named Claire Lyons.

##

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**Author's Notes**: AHAHA. I picked Olivia on purpose because of her semi-relationship with Cam in the later books. Aftermath next chapter and mostly likely one w/ PC interaction. Thanks for reading! I love you all.

Review if you like?


	9. Country Club and Newcomers

**Author's Note**: HOLY HOW you guys are so freaking amazing i flailed when i woke up this morning and read all your reviews. /falls over and dies. you are all so amazing i love you all with all my heart. this is not that great it's derived from a million things and written just for fun yo. you guys make me want to roll around in happiness. thank you to **lydiamartins**, **psychotic** **honeybadger of death**, **rweasleys**, **amazingxlivexlovexlaughx3**, **mee**, **cerulean** **cascades**, **kneexsocks**, **anonymous**, **holy sht,** **captain americas**, **YAAAAAAS, the ocean floor**, and** sexy bitches milkshake club** aka **lily **and my 5** guest **reviewers for your reviews. xoxoxo

_to my guest reviewers_: ya'll are right. anna was riding a really fine line. if you read it again, it could go both ways, but most of you seem hopeful! chris and kemp have been mentioned, but has not shown up yet. they appear soon. jamie marvil is married in my notes, so she's not invested in the cam thing as much as her sisters, LOL. cam is not oblivious. nothing has happened to claire yet. everything so far has been behind the scenes [like the parents or alicia or etc] and only noticeable to the readers/viewers. derrick already warned cam about girls out for his attention, but cam is secure in his relationship and said he doesn't care. his only wrong doing is not warning claire about it all. i've been super, duper sketch about claire's background on purpose. sorry, but you'll see. more development on that next chapter! but i love your guesses though! i think that's all. ask me about any more questions, i'll try to clarify.

this was a long author's note. and also a super long chapter. it's all over the place. i don't know what to name it. LOL but we have aftermath, a look at california-famous vs. new-york-famous with olivia and her mom, pc intereaction, and clam scene... kinda.

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Country Club and Newcomers**

##

When Claire woke up the next morning to the bright sunlight shining through the automatic curtains, Cam was talking softly on the phone in the sitting room of their suite. It was reminiscent of the day he had invited her here. As her mind slowly whirled into action, Claire lay there silently, trying to take in everything that had happened so far on their trip to New York.

Last night had been amazing, but she couldn't help the growing sense of unease, the knots in her stomach tightening like a vice. Claire felt like she had just stumbled upon a button and into a secret chamber and discovered that her boyfriend had been living a double life.

The life of luxury and splendor that Cam seemed to have grown up in was so different from the ordinary life they shared as two young college students in Chicago that Claire was having trouble connecting the two.

Cam's lifestyle in Chicago was completely modest. He rented a cozy studio apartment three blocks from school that contained nothing of value except his laptop, schoolbooks, and guitar. He dressed completely casual and Claire, having no references to men's designer wear, never realized just how much those rumpled A.P.C sweaters or Turnbull & Asser t-shirts cost. She had snatched one off the ground and Google'd it like a stalker and almost choked at the prices. How was she supposed to know that the vintage hipster clothing he wore weren't from thrift shops or American Apparel or something, but were actually _real_?

The only real splurges she'd ever seen Cam make were fresh produce for her at the Farmer's Market or good seats to a concert if a band was in town.

But now suddenly, everything was starting to make sense. There had always been _something_ to him, a quality Claire had never been able to articulate. Something that made her notice him in a new light she had caught the moment she _really_ looked at him. He was different from everyone she had ever known. The way he interacted with people so casually, easily, charmingly. The way he commanded stage presence, drawing attention and second eyes and groupies wherever he went. Even the way he held himself. Cam didn't mind fading into the background, but for some reason, he had never managed it. He had always stood out.

Claire had always chalked it up to his good looks. She had been weary of him from the start because of it. But _now_, now she knew better.

Cam Fisher, who had grown up in the wealthy and extravagant world of Westchester, had nothing to prove… because everything else in the world paled by comparison.

Claire ached to know everything about him, to discover about the world he had lived and breathed everyday of his life until Chicago. She wanted to know all about his childhood at Derrick's mansion, about all the famous and illustrious people he knew, about _everything,_ the food and parties and lifestyle he had introduced her to, but Claire didn't want to pester him with a billion annoying questions first thing in the morning. Not when they had the whole summer stretched out before them to discover it _together_.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty," Cam whispered in her ear with a laugh when he noticed that she was awake.

Claire gave him a slow, sleepy smile, before scowling as the words reached her. "Are you _sure_ you want to anger me this early in the morning?"

"No," Cam laughed, slipping under the sheets and wrapping his arms around her from behind. He pressed an opened mouth kiss against the back of her neck that electrocuted her whole body. Claire turned around to face him and just stared into his mismatched eyes.

"Did you sleep okay?" Cam asked, tucking a lock of blonde hair behind her ear for her.

"Like a rock," Claire answered with a small giggle. "Last night really wiped me out."

"You were amazing. I know it must have been crazy meeting all those people, but you charmed everyone. They loved you."

"Um, that's what you say," Claire muttered, pulling away slightly to avoid his eyes. "But I don't think some of those people liked me very much. Like, that Alicia girl or Derrick's parents. When Mr. Harrington and the Mayor started asking me about New York policies, I completely—"

"Claire, no one expected you to know everything about New York law and policies. You live in Chicago. Everyone loved you, I promise."

"Even Anna?" Claire asked, biting her lip and dreading the answer when she remembered her horrible faux pas.

"Of course," Cam smiled. "In fact, she even invited us to stay with her, if you wanted that was."

"Wait, seriously?" she asked in complete surprise, turning back to him.

"_Yes_, Claire," her boyfriend laughed. "She wants to get to know you better. Why are you so shocked?"

"I didn't think I made that much of an impression…" _Other than being a complete embarrassment_.

Cam leaned closer until their noses were almost touching. "You don't need to make an impression on anyone, Claire. You just need to be yourself. …That's enough of an impression."

Claire felt close to bursting at his words. She bridged the distance between them and pressed her lips to his.

When they finally resurfaced for air, Claire's stomach growled and Cam laughed and rolled of the bed. "You know what we have not done yet? We have not taken advantage of the 24 hour room service. You know, that's one of my favorite things about staying at a hotel. Let's go see how good their breakfast is."

"Sounds good to me. So, wait, quick question, does Derrick's family really own this hotel?" she asked, as she accepted the leather bound menu from him.

"Yeah. Did Derrick tell you?" Cam asked, scanning his own menu.

"No… Layne did. She saw something in the papers and—uh," Claire trailed off, not wanting to tell him that Layne had tried _Googling_ his friend, but found nothing. She dropped that part. "She saw something. You didn't tell me that Derrick's wedding was going to be such a big deal."

Cam looked up from his food perusal. "I didn't think it was going to be," he told her with a furrowed brow.

"It's apparently front page news in every magazine and newspaper in New York. There's even this thing called Wedding Watch, where they track the progress. Like, a full article, just on any recent developments with pictures and stuff."

"You'd think that they'd have better things to report." Cam snorted in disgust. "What with shit going on all around the world."

"You know nothing sells like a big fancy wedding," Claire sang, flipping through the pages of her menu. "They're calling it New York's own royal wedding."

Cam sighed, tossing his menu away and flopping back down on the bed next to her. He stared up at the wood paneled ceiling. "That's why Derrick's so stressed. I'm kinda worried about it. A big wedding was the last thing he wanted, but I think Massie and their moms kind of just took over and now it's unavoidable. I heard it's going to be a Broadway production."

"Well, good thing _I_ can just sit in the audience and relax," Claire teased.

Cam narrowed his eyes playfully. "Lucky you." He exhaled loudly. "But that reminds me. Kemp Hurley is organizing the entire bachelor party and apparently, he's planned quite the event. We're meeting at the airport this weekend and flying to a secret destination. Are you going to be okay for a whole weekend without me?"

"Don't even worry about me," Claire laughed. "I can explore a bit on my own. And Layne can always show me around. She's been a really fun guide. You should have heard some of the comments she made."

"Well, don't forget there's always another option. Massie called this morning to remind you about her bachelorette party this weekend too. She meant it when she invited you. She really does want you to go too."

Claire bit her lip. "Are you _sure_ she wasn't just being polite? I mean, we've only just met. Wouldn't it be weird if I showed up to a party with all her closest friends?"

"Don't think of it like that," Cam reassured her. "Derrick's my best friend. And Massie's a social butterfly. It won't be just a few people. I'm pretty sure half of Westchester is going too, so it could be fun for you. Why don't you talk it over with her? There's this lunch thing at this country club in Westchester today that I kind of wanted to show you. You can work out the details there if you want to go."

"Okay," Claire mused. "Yeah, lunch at a club sounds like fun. I've never been before. But I really want to try these eggs benedict first."

Cam pressed a kiss to the top of her head and reached over her for the hotel phone.

##

In the middle of a ultra-modern top floor studio loft turned boutique on Fifth Avenue, New York, Olivia Ryan stood in the center on a revolving platform in a excessively organza-draped and pearl-detailed Stella McCartney ball gown as two seamstresses flittered around her. The three-set mirror and Max Mover lights in front of her bathed her newly tanned skin in a flattering glow, but her mother still continued to glare at her.

Guzzling down a Diet Coke to fight off her jet lag from only just stepping off a plane from California, Olivia stared back in resentment at her mother.

"It should be cinched in tighter," Jacklyn critiqued, eyeing the folds in her dress.

The attendants glanced at each other, before unpinning a section and pulling it tighter and pinning it back.

"Jesus, mum," Olivia whined. "I can barely breathe in this as it is."

"Take smaller breathes, then." Her mother raised a brow at her and nodded approvingly at the workers. "This wouldn't be a problem if you'd been watching your weight in California. You're allowing those C-list celebrities to bring you down with them. You're slacking in everything from your etiquette to your manners to your fashion sense to your figure."

Olivia rolled her eyes. Her figure was perfect. Spending time away from here in California with those so-called C-listers had given her a boost of confidence that she would never have gained in the world of Westchester.

"What is this? England?" Olivia muttered, tugging at a flap to loosen it only to be slapped away by her mother. "This is like a corset."

"Beauty is pain, Livia," Jacklyn chided. "Perfection is sacrifice. I've told you this time and time again. But you've seem to have forgotten everything I've ever taught you."

Olivia rolled her eyes again. "Don't start, mum. I knew exactly what I was doing in California. I had a series contract to guest star on MTV waiting just for me to sign and Ben was planning on taking me to this island near Terranea this weekend too. Things were going _perfectly_ over there until you forced me to come back here for this stupid wedding. I was looking forward to blowing this off completely."

"Don't get _me_ started on the riot you almost caused over here with your offensive comments in US Weekly about Massie," Jacklyn hissed in anger. "You had no idea of all the damage control I had to do. You're lucky we're even still invited to the wedding."

Olivia kept her face impassive at the memory of the mini-scandal she almost caused as rumors spiked of a rivalry between her and Massie, even though she was close to bursting at _finally_ getting one up over on Massie. 'I don't understand what all the fuss is about over the Block wedding,' she had commented on a red carpet premiere for a movie launch confidently. 'I'm far too busy over here to rush back to my hometown for _every_ social climber's wedding.'

She had washed her hands clean of insanity that was Westchester forever. She had no trouble burning down all the bridges too.

Or so she had _thought_, until her mother had her dragged back here.

"California has drained you of all brain cells. I don't care what world you're living in now, but you've never been _this_ dumb. Things were _not_ going perfectly over there for you and this wedding is going to be the wedding of the decade. And it might not be the only one!" Jacklyn seethed at her daughter. "Cameron is planning on proposing to this Claire Lyons girl _any_ minute now. I've trained you from a young age and the worst thing is, you _had_ him, only to let him slip from your grasp. One simple mission and you failed miserably. Well, now's your second chance. Your _last_ chance."

"You have no appreciation of anything I've accomplish, mum!" Olivia finally burst out. One of the seamstresses jumped in surprise, accidentally jabbing her in the thigh with a pin. She didn't even feel it in, adrenaline surging in her veins after reaching her breaking point. "Ever. I'm a rising star now. I was one step away from being a series regular. I went to _three_ red carpet premières this year. I'm _this_ close to becoming America's next starlet!"

"Who gives a damn about that?" Jacklyn jerked her daughter back into fitting position for the workers. "Do you think anyone here in Westchester is _impressed_ to see pictures of you on TMZ with that awful surfer? Pictured in the US Weekly in bikinis every week? That people stop you in the street for your autograph?!"

"He's a champion, mum! Californian pro, 3 years running," Olivia corrected as she straightened her back and held out her arms again. She smiled proudly at her accomplishments. So her mother _had_ seen. "And those US Weekly articles were the reason I made it to number 53 on Maxim's 2015's Hottest People List. I'm moving up every year."

"You're an embarrassment to me and all of New York society," Jacklyn interjected again, ignoring her daughter's words. She gestured under Olivia's arm. "Take this part in a bit more."

"He's not going to marry her, mum," Olivia insisted, knowing that that was what really had her mother all riled up. "I know Cammy. No one knows him like I do and I can assure you he won't marry this Claire Lyons girl."

"Well, for your sake, I hope you're right," Jacklyn finally conceded at her daughters words. She softened and stepped back, nodding at the seamstresses. "That's enough. That's good." She adjusted the long mesh train behind her and then stared at her daughter in the three way mirror. She smiled slightly. "You look exquisite, Livia. Absolutely lovely."

"Thank you," Olivia beamed. She tilted her head and admired herself. "It does look nice, doesn't it?"

"Her body was _made_ for Stella McCartney," a seamstress simpered. The other nodded vigorously, hoping Olivia had forgotten all about her pin prick.

"I don't have to remind you how important this is," Jacklyn told her daughter sternly, ignoring the gushing workers. "You know—"

"Yes, yes, _yes_, mum," Olivia interrupted sarcastically. "Of course I remember. You've told me _every_ single day of my life. I'm a girl and the youngest Ryan to boot. You have nothing to leave me. Everything is going to my older brothers Andy and Leo. I need to be perfect to find someone of my status if I want to maintain my lifestyle. I _know_."

"Good." Jacklyn smiled brightly. "So you _haven't_ forgotten everything I taught you." She clapped her hands at the seamstresses. "Now her get into the Yves Saint Laurent. She has to look absolutely flawless."

##

The country club that Cam and most of Westchester had grown up going to had been so pretentious and ostentatious that women were not even allowed into the men's smoking room and bar until 2001. It was a Victorian era structured building on the edge of town with all dark wood and leather décor that opened to a spacious formal dining restaurant with faded brocade walls and fancy wall sconces. The most modern thing about the room was its wall windows overlooking the main tennis courts outside.

It wasn't extravagant like the St. Sherry's, but Claire could tell that it was just as classy. The richly-textured mahogany and fretwork dining tables were all strategic placed with a view of the restaurant's main doors, allowing all the esteemed club members the opportunity to make grand entrances, turning even dining into another sport to be won in Westchester.

Already seated and scanning their menus in the toile dining chairs were the well known Pretty Committee. It was better to order earlier, the food here took ages.

Dylan Marvil, who finally extracted herself from her older sister, fidgeted nervously, alternating between tugging on her bright floral Pucci dress and her hair. It just wasn't sitting right, despite the fresh blowout she had done early this morning. She also regretted going with classic floral, especially since Alicia looked better in her simple one colored Missoni.

It was similar to what Claire was wearing yesterday. Shit, why hadn't _she_ thought of that?

Now she looked like a walking blob, clashing with the dark décor. She tugged on her hair again nervously.

"Don't bother," Kristen Gregory told her without looking up, scanning her menu a little too intently. "He prefers blondes."

Dylan gasped.

Massie glanced up over at them with a long-suffering sigh. Alicia giggled in her seat.

"What—you're not blonde either!" she spluttered her.

Alicia's single arched brow told her she was _more_ than confident that that wouldn't be a problem. The messed up thing was, she was probably _right_, Dylan thought with despair. She couldn't remember the last time Alicia hadn't gotten a guy she wanted. Her track record spoke for itself.

"Massie, do you hear this?" Dylan seethed, turning to her. "This is _so_ unfair—Leesh already won the croquet match to tell Ella. She has her endorsement. And Kris is right, Cam _does_ have a thing for blondes! Nikki, Abby, Liv, and now, Claire. They _both_ have an advantage or a leg up! This is so messed up."

"So does this mean you're backing out?" Alicia asked, shutting her leather-bound menu.

"_No_," Dylan replied vehemently.

Alicia shrugged in response, nonchalantly examining her manicure.

"Dyl, you're gorgeous. You're letting them work you up," Massie told her patiently.

"You _could_ go dye your hair right now," Kristen joked with a laugh, snapping her menu closed too. "I'm sure Ted Gibson can fit you in."

"Yeah, like _that_ wouldn't be obvious," Alicia snickered. "Imagine marrying him and having to re-dying your hair every week. That's 6,000 dollars of scalp burn a month. You'll be bald by age thirty."

Kristen let out her signature phlegmy cackle while Dylan pouted. The other patrons glanced over at them curiously.

"We're ready to order," Massie told the black-tuxedo jacketed waiter who approached them with a pleasant smile. "I'll be having the mesclun salad."

"Same," Kristen and Alicia said instantly at the same time.

Dylan bit her lip and eyed the charred calamari and spicy espelette pepper jam she had been planning to order. She didn't want to be the only eating in front of Cam… but no, she needed the pick-me-up. Screw trying to be someone she wasn't, she was going to eat everything offered in the full course meal too. _And_ dessert.

The sound of the country club doors opening drew all their attention to the sight of Cam Fisher walking in holding Claire Lyons hand. Claire's hair was free again, artfully mused from what looked like simple air-drying and wind. Damn. Dylan would have killed for the kind of hair that could stand no maintenance. She was also wearing a simple white sundress. Double damn. She wasn't wearing heels either; instead she was dressed in plain white sneakers that added no height. Triple damn. Obviously, Cam liked the short-girly-girls he could protect and shelter or something. The opposite of her, the tallest of all her friends.

"I mean, she's pretty," Kristen whispered to no one in particular. "But she's not _that_ pretty, right?"

Dylan had forgotten that this was the first time Kristen was seeing Claire. Claire wasn't even _fashionable_ and she was inspiring insecurity in them all.

Alicia sniffed. "If the only trait you have to offer is _pretty_, be prepared to be cheated on with a woman twice your age and divorced before forty."

"This coming from you," Kristen snarled, without taking her eyes of Claire. Alicia opened her mouth in indignation to protest, but Massie cut her eyes to Kristen, who reddened. "Sorry," she muttered to the dark-haired beauty with a contrite look. Alicia took a sip with her drink and nodded. She turned to her friends, while watching people greet the couple out of the corner of her eye. "Okay. Obviously, we can't all go up there together. It'd be way too—"

"Dibs!" Dylan called before Kristen could finish. "I call first."

"Wait, you can't do that!" Alicia interjected instantly. "I didn't even know we were calling—"

"Can I finish?" Kristen hissed. Alicia and Dylan shut up. "I was _trying_ to say, it'd be way too obvious. So, obviously, we have to work _together_. Two of us should distract Claire and get all the dirty details while the other gets time with Cam."

"Well, who gets alone time with Cam?" Dylan mused. They were both important jobs. She wanted Cam to fall in love with her, but Claire would need to go too. The question was, before or after?

The girls all turned to Massie, who groaned and rubbed her temples. "What the was I thinking? This was a horrible idea. I think I'm getting a migraine," she muttered to herself under her breath.

"Come _on_, Massie," Kristen called, scooting her chair closer to Massie's. "You already _got_ your billionaire fiancé." Her face pinched at remembering her mother's reaction at the news. She shook the image away. "The whole point of this was to help us get one of our own."

Dylan rolled her eyes. Kristen was an only child; at least she'd be getting all her parents money. Whatever that was left, that is. Dylan had two older sisters and a half-brother, she'd be splitting her inheritance four ways.

"Cam Fisher marrying a nobody would be the waste of the century," Alicia stated, slapping her hand down on their table in frustration.

"Do what you will," Massie said, rolling her eyes. "Just don't make me pick."

Alicia, Kristen, and Dylan all stared at each other with suddenly hard eyes. They all bolted from the table at the same time.

##

Instead of making a beeline towards Cam and Claire like Alicia and Dylan, Kristen turned at the last minute and headed over to the group of Briarwood alumni. She twirled her hair and smiled coyly. "You guys up for a game?" she asked, gesturing to the country club soccer field outside.

She was met with answering grins and nods.

She knew she had made the right decision in wearing her Nike sports outfit instead.

So when she finally headed over to Cam's table, she had a whole game's worth of time to woo him.

Dylan and Alicia scowled at her.

##

"So, Claire," Dylan smiled, dipping a piece of calamari into her basquaise sauce. "What do you do when you're not vacationing in New York with Cam?"

"Oh, I'm a photographer," Claire told them, wondering why these girls were suddenly inducting her into their little club and being so nice to her. "My roommate runs a gallery, and I help out there occasionally. She features my stuff sometimes."

"Oh," Alicia giggled. "How chic. Any charities?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, spearing a baby tomato from her salad.

"Are you a member of any charities?" Alicia asked. She slid her hair over her shoulder and grinned at Claire. "Like for example, I was inducted into the New York Foundation for the Arts committee just last week. I also participate in New Hope, March of Dimes, and CHA, Inc. whenever I have free time. And that's just this past month."

"Well, I'm not in any committees, but a portion of our proceeds do go to Woman Made," Claire answered with amusement. It seemed like everything that came out of Alicia's mouth was aimed at trying to one-up her.

"How nice, right, Dyl?" Alicia smirked. Dylan nodded absentmindedly. She was distracted eyeing Kristen and the guys playing a quick game of soccer in the distance. "Did you know that this country club is one of the most exclusive in Westchester?"

"No, I didn't," Claire replied, blinking and looking around at the club again.

"Well, I don't think a non-member has set foot in here in years," Alicia told her.

"Really? Why is that?" she asked, not really all that curious. She put her fork down and wiped her mouth on the cloth napkin. She wasn't totally clueless; she could sense a trap.

"Well, non-members don't really respect the territory, you know?" Alicia explained slowly. Beside her, Dylan took popped another piece of calamari into her mouth to avoid speaking. "They're newcomers, so they don't know how it's always been done. They don't know the proper etiquette or the club rules and regulations." Alicia looked up and met her eyes with that same sweet smile. "They waltz right in… and they think that they know everything, but they really don't. They do things differently, think differently, act differently… and they _ruin_ things for everyone else."

"Why do I get the feeling you're talking about more than the Ridgeway," Claire remarked brazenly. It wasn't a question.

Dylan froze in the process of chewing.

"Of course, I'm talking about the Ridgeway, Claire," Alicia giggled. Her expression was sugar sweet. "Whatever else would I be talking about?"

"I don't know, Alicia," Claire replied dryly. "You tell me."

They stared at each other for what would have been a long time if Cam hadn't appeared behind Claire's chair.

"Hey," he greeted breathlessly, bending down and pressing a kiss to Claire's cheek. "Are you still eating? There's something I want to show you."

"Nope," Claire replied, tossing her napkin into her unfinished salad carelessly. She scooted her chair back loudly, the wooden legs grating against the freshly-waxed hardwood. Dylan winced at the sound, but Alicia's eyes stayed fixed on hers. "I think I'm done here."

She accepted Cam's open hand and forced herself to walk away without a second glance.

"Words of premonition," she heard Alicia mutter as they left.

##

As Cam led Claire away out a side entrance, the sounds of the chattering lunch party faded, to be replaced with the chirping of melodic birds and the rush of the blue lake. She allowed the soothing sounds to push away her confrontation with Alicia. She had never met anyone who looked so sweet and so mean at the same time. Claire could see distant golf poles and croquet wickets and knew that if the whole club wasn't closed just for this event, they wouldn't have been able to sneak away unnoticed.

Cam ducked under two birch trees that almost served as archways. They formed a canopy of shade that protected them from the harsh summer heat. Claire looked around in wonder, marveling at the nature that surrounded them. It was like they weren't even in the country club anymore. Brushing past drifting willow wines, Cam led her off path over to a secluded area right by the lake shrouded by a giant willow tree… and Claire knew instantly what this was.

"Welcome to my old hideout," Cam whispered to her as if it was hallowed ground.

Claire couldn't help but giggle. She turned and looked out over the lake. It seemed to go on for miles, the water barely lapping at the edge near their feet. It was much more romantic than she imagined, but then again maybe Cam had always been romantic.

"I'm impressed," Claire told him as Cam flopped down on the dry grass a bit further away from the lake, paying no mind to his clothes. "It's much classier than I pictured."

"Ha ha," Cam deadpanned, reaching and pulling her to him by her waist. Claire landed on his lap with a small squeal. She shifted, trying to make sure that her white sundress didn't touch the grass. He tilted her head up to meet his eyes and raised his eyebrows at her. "Back in middle and high school, I used bring all my girlfriends here."

"Wow," Claire joked, swatting him on the arm. "Way to make a girl feel special."

"You are," Cam told her happily. "You're the only one I've ever told. Before, I just allowed the view to do all my work for me."

Claire followed her boyfriend's eyes and looked back over the lake. "It _is_ a nice lake," Claire admitted with a small sigh, leaning her head back against his chest. She marveled at her boyfriend actually showing her the place they had only ever joked about. She couldn't believe that she was actually _here_, witnessing first hand little snippets of his past. This was the most peaceful Cam looked since they arrived and Claire felt his happy mood siphoning all the stress away from her too. She looked up at him innocently. "And you know, I think you're right. It must have been the lake; it sure couldn't have been _you, _player that you were."

He pretended to look offended, but Claire turned on his lap to face him with a smirk. "Is this where you lost your virginity?"

Cam nodded slowly with a raised brow. "My lip virginity too."

And though, Claire knew from the way he was looking at her, his blue and green eyes burning with heated intensity, that while this place might have held significance for him before, he wasn't thinking about his past at all.

All he saw was her. Claire kissed him.

She brushed her lips over his, savoring in the feel of his lips on hers. The taste of the tart they had both nibbled on just moments earlier, the smell of his familiar, but no less intoxicating Dakkair Noir and sweat from the game, and the feel of the warm summer wind barely gusting over them in the secluded shade. She hummed her enjoyment and Cam's hand tipped her face up, his hand trailing from her cheek to the back of her neck, pulling her closer.

Claire followed. Her hands fisting in his hair as his tongue stroked hers. His arms trailed up her sides, ghosting over her ribs. His caress was feather light, but they still managed to send a tremble through her.

She was just tugging his shirt loose from his pants as he hiked her dress up over her hips when they heard soft footsteps on grass and the rustle of the branches and leaves shielding them, signaling newcomers. They pulled apart quickly. Claire stood up, the better to pull her dress down to keep from exposing herself.

In addition to Best Dressed People, Westchester County, New York was looking to be the winner of the Most Beautiful Inhabitants award too.

The girl standing at the edge of their hideout in front of her didn't even look real. Her buttery blonde hair, smooth tan skin, and pale blue eyes shimming from the glare of the lake made her look like some sort of ethereal fairy. She was easily one of the most beautiful girls Claire had ever seen. The guy stepping out behind her was good looking too, though he looked about forty.

"Liv!" Cam called in astonishment. He stood up as well.

"Cammy!" The girl named Liv replied brightly. Claire noticed that she was wearing a beautiful pale cream dress with hand painted flowers.

"What are you doing here?" he gasped, still wide eyed.

"I'm here for lunch at the club. You remember how we're forced to go to these things every month whenever we're in town?"

"Right. Yeah." Cam licked his lips, running his hand through the back of his hair, and turned to Claire. "Yeah… Uh, Olivia, this is my girlfriend, Claire. Claire, this is Olivia Ryan."

"Nice to meet you," Claire responded softly, wondering if she had meant it. Cam was _nervous_ and it was setting of all kinds of alarms ringing in her head. She wondered who exactly this girl was, that kept calling her boyfriend _Cammy_.

"Likewise." Olivia's smile was blinding bright. "And this is Ben. I came up here to show Ben the place where I received my first kiss and would you believe it? The guy who kissed me is standing right here!"

Claire turned to look at Cam. His cheeks were bright red.

"What? No way! You're kidding! Did you guys plan this?" Ben cackled, slapping this thigh.

"Swear to god, I didn't," Olivia said, practically dancing on her toes. "This is _such_ a coincidence!"

Cam dropped his hand back down awkwardly. "Yeah, I thought you were dead set on skipping the wedding," he said.

"Well, I changed my mind at the last minute. It's the wedding of the decade, how could I possibly miss that?"

Claire shifted on her feet nervously, trying not to allow the nagging, insecure thoughts slowing filling her mind to show on her face.

"Well… we should probably head back, Benny." Olivia said, slowly in the awkward silence. "We haven't eaten yet, so I'm starving and the food always takes _ages_ here."

"Yeah," Cam muttered. "We should probably head back too."

He turned to Claire and held out his hand. She took it and followed after the three of them slowly, but right before they parted from the hideout's shade of the willow tree, Olivia stopped abruptly. "Oh look, Cammy. I can't believe it—it's still here," she giggled in awe, tracing her fingers over the bark of the tree.

Curious, Claire peeked over Cam's shoulder at the tree and blinked. The names _Cam_ and _Liv_ were carved into the bark, joined together by an infinity symbol.

##

* * *

**Author's Note**: wow that was long, sorry. the next chapter will be shorter.

Review if you like?


	10. Mothers and Special Surprises

**Author's Note**: Sorry for the repost. FFN is being weird and I'm not seeing any updates. I don't know if this chapter is bad and no one likes it or if you guys can't read it at all. So, I thought I'd give this a re-try. Thank you so, so much for all your encouraging reviews and comments and support. I love you all so much, but honestly, this is derived from a million different things. It's nothing special and written just for fun, yo. I could cry. Thank you, thank you to you all. Short chapter today, but long author's note. That's always me. Surprise, surprise LOL.

* * *

_**NOT REQUIRED READING**_

I'm so sorry! A lot of you guys seem to be getting angry, LOL. So I feel like I should reiterate that the entire premise of this story is that the world of Westchester is _ridiculous_. Like, outrageous, irrational, absurd ridiculous. Like, so much it's not even funny. Except kinda. Not just because of the money though [although, yes], but also because how they act _because_ of it. Money colors all their interactions. There was this scene I included where the ladies of WC could calculate your net worth and act accordingly. Like, you're not even in the same _stratosphere_ as them, if you do not have money. There is also this layer of new money vs old money. Old money is class and status, where their wealth is in their property and generations of lineage. New money is flashy as shit [more of this to come], like celebrities, reality stars, and Lamborghinis, etc. The world of WC is obsessed w/ marriage into the 'right' families. Not just money, but old money too. So for Ella, not even someone like… Dylan would be good enough for Cam in her mind. Even though Dylan is rich.

Here's a handydandy chart for your viewing pleasure [ask me for other relevant peeps, if you're interested. also, note who is rich and who is wealthy]:  
Cam – old money, wealthy  
Derrick – old money, wealthy, keeps family shit under lock, never in papers  
Massie – old money, wealthy  
Olivia – old money, wealthy, but is embarrassing because of shit like MTV and TMZ  
Kristen – old money [prominent in england], _not_ rich [poor in WC standards]  
Alicia – new money [kinda, even tho her mother was rich in spain, her father drags it down], rich, viewed as tacky [for showing up in magazines, but more acceptable than olivia's cali version]  
Dylan – new money [dad is good, mom is barely excused which is why merri-lee's never included with the other ladies], rich  
Kemp – new money, rich  
Ella – new money, wealthy now through marriage

And now, we have Claire thrown in, who is basically a nobody to these people. She does _not_ fit in _anywhere_ on this spectrum at all.

So, this is a story about the **exclusivity** of WC… and whether or not someone like Claire can make it into this world. And yes, I put a lot of thought into these kinds of things, sorry.

* * *

I researched private jets just for this chapter and oh my god, are rich people _**rich**_. The types of planes and the customization. Some jets have running showers, walk-in closets, and master bedrooms. One guy even has a private jet with a skylight. A skylight. On. a. jet. Another has one that seats 520 people. Why do you need a jet that large?! Can you _believe_ this? Meanwhile, I am living off dollar mac&cheese because college lyfe, yo. LOOK UP PRIVATE JET INTERIORS ON GOOGLE FOR MINDBOGGLING MADNESS.

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Mothers and Special Surprises**

##

Claire skittered on the plush carpeted floor of her hotel room and scrambled over her bed to reach over the bedside table for her phone. She picked up just in time, preventing another worried voicemail. "Hello?" she answered breathlessly, slumping back down onto the bed. Instantly, Claire heard her mother's voice reply, "Claire, honey, oh my god. There you are. Where have you been? I've been trying to reach you for days!"

"Sorry, mom," she replied contritely, instantly feeling bad. She shifted the phone to the other ear and sighed. "I know I haven't called as much as I promised. It's just that it's kind of been a wild few days."

"Wild? What do you mean by wild?" her mother asked, her tone indicating she was still a bit miffed.

"Not… _wild_ exactly, but I don't know. I can't explain it. It's kinda just been out of this world…"

"Are you not enjoying New York? Did something happen? Claire, you're starting to worry me."

"No. I mean, yes—I'm having an amazing time, but nothing happened, _really_. It's just—Mom, these people…" Claire's voice trailed off. She glanced toward the bathroom where Cam was still in the shower. There was almost no chance he would overhear, but still, she decided to roll off the bed, step out of the bedroom, and lower her voice anyways. "The bride and the groom come from very wealthy families. It's just unbelievable."

Her mother sighed angrily in relief. "Honey, you almost gave me a heart attack. …Wait—_really_? What about Cam's family? Are they rich too?"

Claire rolled her eyes, because of course. That _would_ be her mother's first reaction. She flopped down onto one of the plush sitting room couches. "I… _think_ so. But mom, it's kind of not a big deal. Apparently, everyone is rich here."

"You know, I kind of suspected that all along. There was always something about him. Cam is so well-mannered; it's plainly obvious that he was brought up well. I can just tell by how he treats you… and he always splurges on our family. That expensive wine he brought for us at Thanksgiving was the nicest thing."

"No, mom, I'm serious." Claire refrained from rolling her eyes good-naturedly again. Cam had won over her entire family in the span of two seconds with that bottle. "I'm trying to tell you it's really not that big of a deal. _Everyone_ is rich. I really do mean everyone too. I think I might be in culture shock—no wait—more like _money_ shock. The way these people spend… I can't even begin to tell you. Their houses and hotels, the dozens of maids and staff, and the parties and country clubs—you wouldn't even believe me if I even tried to explain. You need to actually see it for yourself to believe."

"That's what I've heard about New York," her mother told her sagely. "And it's always portrayed that way in television, so I can't say I'm too surprised, but are you having fun at least? Witnessing a different lifestyle?"

She wanted to tell her mother all about the cold behavior she was experiencing. Alicia's words and Olivia Ryan's appearance yesterday still nagged at her, but she knew that would just make her mother worry more about her. She had felt the same with Cam. They had spent most of the night in a marathon lovemaking session and she hadn't wanted to ruin their post-coital bliss with her stupid, insecure thoughts. Still, if she didn't tell someone she was going to burst. "Yeah… The only downside is that some of these girls _really_ don't like me for some reason. And I met one of Cam's ex-girlfriends yesterday and she was… territorial, almost. I don't know what to think."

Her mother paused at her admittance. She seemed to be deliberating her next words. "It sounds like typical girl drama, honey. Rich or poor, it sounds the same as everywhere else. These girls don't like you because they're _jealous_ of what you have, honey, and it sounds like that thing is Cam."

Claire had to laugh at that. She felt comforted that her catty thoughts were validated, as silly as it was. They didn't hate her for some flaw of hers, it was theirs. Envy.

"But, honey, you need to be careful."

Claire's brow rose and she sat up. "What do you mean, mom?"

"I know how those kinds of families over there can be. Rich and… _powerful_. They're quick to judge and even quicker to act. You don't want to give anyone the impression that you're only after Cam for his money or to have them thinking badly of you at all… You need to be very careful how you present yourself around them."

"I'll just be myself then, mom," Claire told her, reassuring her with her confident tone.

"Alright," her mom conceded. "Well, is Cam treating you okay over there? What has he said or done about these girls? He's back in his hometown. Is he too distracted to spend time with you?"

"No, of course not. Cam's amazing, as always. He's been showing me so many places. He's just been kind of busy with his friend's wedding coming up so soon. It's going to be the biggest wedding New York has ever seen. It's all over the news and in all kinds of magazines and it's just crazy."

"Really?" her mom asked in surprise. "Should I look them up? Do you think anything will be online?"

"I think so. You can try. The bride's name is Massie Block and Cam's friend is Derrick Harrington."

"Alright. I'll go see if I can read anything on them."

Claire shifted the phone to her other ear again after checking that Cam was still in the shower. "Massie also invited me to her bachelorette party this weekend, but I'm not sure if I should go."

"Well, that's a nice offer. If she invited you, honey, of course you should consider going. It's always an honor to be invited to these things and the groom is Cam's friend, isn't he? If the bride wants to make friends with you too, why would you snub her?"

"Yeah… you're right." Claire nodded at her mother's wise words. She didn't want to do anything that would cause tension between her and Massie that could lead to tension between Cam and Derrick. She sighed and smiled slightly. "As always. About everything. Thanks, mom. Anyway, I should probably go get ready. The party starts tonight."

"Of course, honey. You have fun, okay? Tell me all about it when you get back. I love you."

"Thanks again, mom. I love you too."

##

The café that Ella and Nadia met Alvaro in was simple, regular, and busy. Filled with patrons and students and servers weaving in and out of the tables, it was easy to blend in as part of the crowd. Too bad it also gave Ella a migraine and only five minutes into the conversation, she was fed up.

"Fifty thousand dollars?" Ella cried. "That's _outrageous_. I won't pay it."

She glared at the man Nadia had assured her was worth the price. He was dressed in a polyester jacket and _sweatspants_, for shit's sakes. The so-called _best_ private investigator Nadia knew looked like an amateur jock that had left his prime. This was the last time she would trust one of her friends to settle matters for her.

Even if he _had_ dug up more than she had expected.

She hated that he was holding the last piece of information over them.

"Trust me, this'll be worth your money," the unfashionable man leered.

"How can we be sure that your information has any value when we don't even know what it is?" Nadia interjected smoothly.

"Nadia, we've worked for you for over twenty years. I am the best. Now, I'm not what sure you ladies are planning with this Claire Lyons girl and I certainly don't want to know. I keep my mouth shut and my own ass out of it, that's my motto. But, trust me. I can assure you that this information will be… beneficial to whoever is in possession of it," the PI replied confidently in Spanish.

Nadia translated for her, but even though Ella had gotten the go-ahead from her husband to spend her entire fortune if she so desired, she refused to be swindled. She glared at him in rising anger. "Who does he think I am?" she snapped at Nadia. "There couldn't be any information in the world worth fifty thousand dollars. Does he think money grows on trees?"

"How about fifteen thousand, Alvaro?" Nadia translated smoothly without betraying either side's wishes.

"Twenty five thousand, Nadia." Alvaro shook his head and sipped his coffee. He _knew_ these ladies were rich; they could pay if they had to. "You are a special client, but that's my last offer. I'll lower to half my asking price, just for you."

"Fifteen thousand," Nadia insisted again in Spanish. "You know I would pay up if it was me, Alvaro, but my friend is different." Ella watched all this with suspicious eyes. Nadia sighed at the negative expression on Alvaro's face and turned back to Ella. "He says fifteen thousand is the lowest offer."

"No," Ella suddenly decided. "_Twelve_ thousand, or I leave."

Alvaro gave her a look of disgust as if she had just insulted his death-bed grandmother or something. Ella took that as a no, pushed her chair back, snatched her new Goyard purse from the table, and stood. Nadia followed suit instantly and the both of them headed to the front of the café exit.

They were nearing the glass doors.

"Ella, I think you've gone too far with your bargaining tactics. We've lost him," Nadia whispered. Still, she had enough smarts and decency to not look back.

"Nadia, I will not stand for extortion. Keeping walking and do _not_ turn around," Ella hissed back from the side of her mouth. Both ladies stepped out into the sunlight of Boston's busiest street. Just as they were about to turn the corner of the block, Alvaro burst from the coffee shop and café. "Okay! Okay, twelve thousand!" he cried breathlessly.

Ella beamed at Nadia in triumph and followed the man back to their table.

Alvaro slapped his leather suitcase on the sticky counter top and entered his combination code. The locked clicked open and Alvaro pushed open the lid. He fished out three pieces of paper from a manila envelope and placed it onto their table. Nadia grabbed them before Ella could and started reading. Ella refrained from snarling and relented. It wouldn't do to cause a scene or rip the documents she was paying good money for. She leaned over to read over her friend's shoulder instead. Both ladies scanned the documents up and down, and then front and back.

"Oh my goodness, Ella," Nadia cried with a gasp as she reread the documents, just to be completely sure.

Ella's head snapped towards Alvaro. "Are you _completely_ sure this is accurate? There will be serious consequences for you if this isn't."

Nadia translated, but there was no need. Ella's tone and fervor was understandable even to Alvaro.

"I swear on my life." The smile Alvaro gave her was solemn.

Ella sucked in a breath and nodded resolutely at him. She met his eyes. "Alvaro, I will give you another fifty thousand dollars in cash right now if you take me to where you got this information."

##

The moment Claire walked into Teterboro's waiting room, escorted by an ear pieced attendant, she knew that this wasn't going to be just any regular old bachelorette party. Possibly because she was standing at the heart of New York's private jet and aviation charter center, but also because of the twelve runway-ready girls she came face to face with sleek beige waiting lounge.

Standing in a room with filled New York socialites, reality star celebrities, and millionaire heiress, Claire could not have been more out of place.

She had throught her crocheted poncho top and abstract prism capris were dressy, but in light of all the flashy designer wear surrounding her, she felt disheveled. Massie was nowhere to be seen, and she wasn't exactly keen on starting conversations with Alicia Rivera and Dylan Marvil on the opposite end of the lounge, so she took a seat in a classic wingback chair and tried hard not to stare at anyone in particular.

Snippets of conversations drifted her way.

"I was thinking about purchasing that complex in Manhattan. It's the cutest thing, though really small, three bedrooms only, but it's definitely going en bloc and I'm sure I can triple it's worth in about a year, so it's totally worth the cons…"

"No way! I searched _everywhere_ for that handbag! How did you get your hands on it? No, really, I flew all the way to Paris and it was even sold out in L'Eclaireur. I'm still on the waitlist!"

"The St. Sherry's is nice, but it's on par with the St. Regis. _Nothing_ beats the Ritz though. I stayed there last month for about two weeks and they had the best tea service. Plus the spa staff… The guy that gave me Thai oil massage was to die for. They have the hottest masseurs I've ever experienced at a hotel!"

"No, feel. I swear, it's not pashmina cashmere. It's genuine karakul!"

Yeah… Nope. Not only did everyone seem to know each other and were bonding like long lost friends, but this was _not_ Claire's crowd. She had never felt so out of place as she did now. What even _was_ a karakul?

Luckily, before long, Alicia waved her new iPhone in the air and called, "Massie just pulled up!"

The chatter died off gradually as everyone in the lounge craned their necks toward the sliding glass doors of the lounge to witness the grand entrance of the guest of honor. If Claire hadn't seen Massie in her natural habitat at the dinner party the other day, she would not have recognized her now at all. Dressed in a Balmain floral and chains top and fitted skinny jeans, Massie had her hair piled high on her head to show of her bold Soha Sardinia cluster necklace.

Since Claire was closest by the door, she was the first person swept into a warm hug. "Claire, hey. I'm so glad you could make it." She pulled apart before Claire could respond and tugged her along with her to the center of the room. "Come with me."

"Everyone!" Massie called. There wasn't much need; she was commanding the attention of the entire room already. "First of all—hi—thank you so much for coming. I want to introduce you all to my fabulous new friend, Claire Lyons. She's the guest of Derrick's best man, Cam Fisher, so give her a warm welcome." All eyes instantly shifted from Massie to Claire, who flushed at the twelve pairs of eyes dissecting every single inch of her person.

Massie continued without breaking stride, "So, now that everyone knows each other… Let's start! You guys all know that if you're standing in this room right now, you're one of my closest and dearest friends. I've known most of you since childhood, but I don't think we've ever had a real get-together like this before. So I want to treat you all to a special surprise."

Massie paused for effect, a smile teasing on her lips. "We're heading to my daddy's private island resort in the Bahamas for the weekend!"

There were gasps, excited mummers, and happy claps from the crowd.

"Girls, in three short hours, we'll be shopping at the chicest island boutiques, pampering ourselves with seaweed spa treatments, dining on delish low-cal cuisine, and dancing on the beach until sunrise."

Before Claire could even _process_ what she had just announced, Massie was already leading the party toward the airport tarmac, where they were ushered onboard a Bombardier Global Express. Claire found herself in a cabin with sleek felt upholstery and a row of creamy leather sofas facing each other. The pleasing scent of bright orange, yellow, and fuchsia Gerber daises greeted her from a wooden side table laid out with mimosas that the other girls were grabbing drinks off as they passed toward the other cabins.

"Massie, oh my god, this is amazing!" one of the girls exclaimed as she plopped down into the sofa. She sat up just as quickly and adjusted the decorative throw pillows around her. "Is this your father's new plane?"

"My mom's, actually," Massie corrected, accepting a mimosa handed to her by an attentive flight attendant. She noticed Claire standing on the fringes of the cabin and instead handed her the drink. Claire accepted with a weak smile, feeling a bit overwhelmed again. She took a sip and closed her eyes at the refreshing taste. It helped ground her.

Massie turned back to the girl. "But you're right. It is new. My mom wanted this newest model because it boasts that new fresh air-cycling system, which is perfect for the yoga studio. Only, she had to do this whole Zen makeover thing before we could even get in on the tarmac in the city. She had the interior redecorated four times before she was satisfied with the exact layout."

The girl rolled her eyes in sympathy and Claire wandered incredulously into the next cabin. Three girls were grouped together in a seating area arranged for social interactions. They were giggling and hushing each other.

"I told you it was her, Livvy!"

"She's not at _all_ what I was expecting, Lex. I mean, I thought her family is part of the fastest rising auto industry in the United States."

"Even so, Cam's richer than a Saudi Arabian prince; you'd think that she'd be dressed a bit more—"

The girls suddenly noticed her and shut up instantly. They turned beet red at getting caught. Claire felt a rush of adrenaline barrel through her veins at the realization that the girls were talking about her. Her palms were suddenly sweaty against her champagne class and the air seemed thinner, despite Massie's words of a fresh air system. Claire forced herself to pass by them calmly. She met their eyes and noted their faces, despite the insecure urge to look away.

Luckily, Massie entered the cabin with a group of girls at that moment, brushing past her and offering a tour of the jet. Claire took the miraculous opportunity to leave with someone.

"And this next cabin is the entertainment room." She waved a flippant hand at the room with more cream leather seats, a wall of flat-screen televisions, and a side bookshelf that, instead of books, held the latest fashion magazines. Claire looked, and of course, Alicia was on the cover of one of them. Massie led them into the next room and Claire took a sip of her drink to keep from wondering out loud how rich Massie's mom was to install a state-of-the-art Sivananda yogo studio with heated burnish hardwood floors.

While Claire continued to marvel in silent disbelief, a pair of girls burst breathlessly into the studio. "Massie, Coral just dragged your mom's dreamboat Italian flight attendant into the master bathroom."

"Well then, Allie, inform her that if she wants to sleep with staff, she can do at her own home. The master rooms are off limits." Massie rolled her amber eyes and linked her arms with Claire. "Classic, Strawberry. That's what got her sent abroad in the first place. Her mother caught her with the pool boys one day. She obviously has a power kink."

Claire laughed, trying not to choke on her drink. Massie left to attend to her other guests and Claire wandered back out to the entertainment room. A super tanned girl slid into the cushion next to her with a sly smile. "Hey there. You must be Claire. I'm Liz Goldman. I know your cousin Lalia."

Nibbling on a mini crab and cucumber sandwich set out, Claire raised her eyebrows in amusement. This was the second time she'd heard about this Lalia. "Nice to meet you, but, uh—no. Sorry, but I don't have a cousin Lalia."

"But aren't you Claire Lyons?"

"Yes."

"Then isn't your cousin Lalia Lyons? From_ Lyons Motorcars_?"

Claire refrained from rolling her eyes. Were these people so rich that they couldn't fathom meeting anyone not in their social sphere? Did she have to be related to someone of note before even appearing on their radar? "Sorry, but no. I'm just a regular girl from Chicago."

Liz stared at her in astonishment and surprise. "Oh. I'm so sorry. My bad then. Excuse me for a second." She smiled slightly before heading straight to the front cabins. Claire watched her go with amused eyes. Liz burst into the master bedroom, where a small group of girls were surrounding Alicia and Kristen lounging on Kendra's bed. Alicia was regaling them with tales of a scandal during an old photoshoot.

"Guys, you'll never _believe_ what I just found out." The girls looked up at her in curiosity. "I was just talking to Claire Lyons and it turns out she's _not_ related to the Lyons Motorcars. I doubt she's ever even heard of them!"

Kristen rolled her eyes, flipping through a fashion magazine disinterestedly. "Is that it?"

Alicia eyed her with distaste. "I could have told you that days ago. We've met her twice already. We already know everything there is to know about Claire Lyons."

Liz knew when she was being one upped. She took a seat on a cushion the floor beside Becca and smoothed out her skirt contritely. The other girls were looking eagerly at Alicia and Kristen. Carrie Randolph clapped excitedly. "Well then, what are you waiting for? Tell us everything."

Leaning back against a fur throw pillow, Alicia smiled darkly. "All you need to know about Claire Lyons is that there _is_ nothing. There's nothing special about her at all."

##

* * *

**Author's Note**: SOOOO, Claire is going to be thrown on a tiny island with these all these catty girls for a whole long weekend. Who knows what will go down? Stay tuned! We also check up on boy's bachelor weekend next chapter too.

Thank you so much for reading!

_Review if you like?_


	11. Class and Luxe

**Author's Note**: Thank you so much for your reviews, you guys! THEY MEAN THE WORLD TO ME. And you guys are so nice, comparing this to pop culture references, I'm so flattered. AND ANON, I think it's amazing you're writing a luxe life story. If it's posted, you should send me a link. I'd love to read it because I live for these stories. LOL. I love that most of you are convinced that Claire has a secret heritage. I haven't planned any other love interest for the girls because the plot is also them clamoring for Cam. Sorry! Lily! You caught the connection. We'll seeeeee. Oh and, I'm sorry about the re-posting of the last chapter. Fanfiction was being so weird, but hopefully it's back to normal and you guys can see this new chapter.

Um, warning for this chapter. **Language**. I can't seem to help it. I base the guy scenes off how my guy friends talk in real life and they are curse bombs all over the place. It's just what comes out. Anyway, Kemp is the kind of guy I'd want to punch in the face in real life. Yes, they exist. Rich boys with entitlement issues, you know? I picture him in a frat too. I don't know. Anyway, part two of the parties to come next time!

Also, I have a baby Derrick/Cam flashback so you can see how they became friends, but also HOW THEIR SOCIETY WORKS. Do you see what Derrick's dad did? Do you see how manipulated to be influential they were as kids? Obvi, this doesn't mean they're not best friends still, but yeah. Their world, man. ALSO, it is pure chance that 1998 was a FIFA year.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Class and Luxe**

##

_**1998**_

It happened so fast, Cam couldn't even process it. One minute a curly haired boy was in his face and the next, he was face down in the grass with cold dirt in his mouth. His shirt was uncomfortably soaked through from the damp mud and Cam was sure he had scabbed and ripped through his uniform pants, judging from the stinging his knees. His mother wouldn't be happy. He felt embarrassing tears burning in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" a voice asked.

Cam rolled over onto his back and blinked quickly to clear his vision. An unfamiliar face was looking down at him. He noticed tanned skin, freckles, and bright blond hair and recognized the new kid.

"Yeah," Cam muttered, blushing red and pushing off his hands slowly. His pants were ruined and so was his uniform blazer. He spat out a mouthful of spit, but the bitter taste lingered in his mouth. He turned to see at Kemp Hurley staring at the both of them, red faced and enraged.

"I'm going to tell my dad you hit me!" Kemp was shouting at the new kid. Cam noticed that he was rubbing his arm like he was in pain.

"Then I'll tell my dad you're a bully," the blond haired boy yelled back. "I saw the way you shoved him off the curb. You could have really hurt him. Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"

Kemp spluttered. "This isn't any of your business, so stay out of it! I'm trying to teach this asshole a lesson!"

Derrick didn't seem the least bit intimidated, something that made Cam feel like a wimp. He quickly wiped the tear tracks still staining his face and clamored to his feet.

But before anymore action could take place, a metallic gold limousine pulled up into the driveway outside Briarwood, drawing Kemp's attention. He turned back to Derrick. "This _isn't_ over!" He glanced at Cam too, still red-faced. "And you! Get ready for round two tomorrow!" He made a threatening motion, punching his fist into his open hand. "I'm going to kick your ass!"

Kemp ran over to his ride, slid in, slammed the door, and was driven away.

The boy who had come to Cam's rescue turned to him and asked again, "Are you okay? You're bleeding."

Cam looked down at realized distantly that he was right. There were bloody scraps on his right knee. He wasn't sure what to do about it. At any moment, one of his parents was going to pull into the driveway to pick him up and if it just happened to be his mother today, she would go into full scale panic mode at seeing him like this. The boy drew out a white, perfectly folded handkerchief from his blazer pocket and handed it to Cam. "Here, just use this."

Cam accepted the handkerchief from his savior gratefully and dropped onto the grass. He bit his lip and drew his knees up to his chest to pat at the blood.

He had seen him around school before. The new kid was hard to missed, transferring into class halfway through the semester. His bright blond hair looked highlighted and he was picked on for being always singled out in PE. It didn't seem to faze him at all though, Cam noticed. They weren't in the same classes, but Cam had noticed that the boy had private soccer lessons with Coach Mason every day after school.

"I'm Derrick Harrington," the new kid introduced. He sat down in the grass next to Cam. "What did you do to piss off Kemp so much?"

"I'm Cam Fisher," he replied shyly. He cleared his throat, wondering whether or not to share. In the end, he did. "I... I caught him trying to cheat off my math test, so I told the teacher on him. He got in trouble and was sent to the Dean's office, so now he wants to fight me."

"You shouldn't feel bad," Derrick consoled. "Kemp wants to fight everyone."

"…Are you friends with him?" Cam asked, hesitantly.

"Nah. His dad does business with my dad, so I'm instructed to be nice to him, but to be honest, I can't stand him."

Cam laughed in relief. For a moment, he had thought that Derrick was actually Kemp's friend. "Why are you here so late?" he asked.

"I had to take a special test in Math. They don't think I'm good enough, even though I had tutoring every single day this summer," Derrick explained, unabashedly.

"I suck at math too," Cam told him quietly, feeling sympathetic. He was pretty bad at math, but he'd never had to take any special tests before. He would have felt bad or embarrassed for Derrick if the guy wasn't so calm and brazen about it.

"Why are you here so late?" Derrick asked him.

"I'm always here late. My parents are always busy, sometimes they just forget to pick me up," Cam confided in return. He also found himself being bold. He thought of all the rumors surrounding Derrick and couldn't contain himself. He finally blurted out, "Is it true you're from France?"

Derrick shook his head, ripping out grass under his fingers in a mix of embarrassment and excitement. "Nah. I was born here in Westchester, but my parents took me all around Europe this summer for the FIFA World Cup. That's why I came back late for school."

Cam's jaw dropped in surprise. He wasn't that huge of a fan of soccer, but _everyone_ knew about the World Cup. He hadn't known anyone who had been to a real soccer game before, let alone one halfway around the world. "_Really_? What was it like? Did you get to meet any of the players?"

"It was freaking _awesome_," Derrick beamed. "We got box seats for all the games and I was in the audience when they won." He stopped abruptly and accessed Cam in deliberation for a moment. He also glanced around the school, but there was no one around at all. Finally, he leaned in close and Cam did the same. "I'm going to tell you something, but first you have to promise not to tell anyone."

"Okay, yeah, sure," Cam replied earnestly.

"Swear on it. On your life."

"I swear on my life," Cam pledged solemnly.

Derrick cracked a boyish grin. "Okay. Have you ever heard of Zinedine Zidane?"

"Yeah," Cam replied instantly, even though it took him a beat longer to actually connect the name. He had heard it before somewhere, probably on the news or from his parents or something. It hit him though. Zindane had just won some fancy award as FIFA's Player of the Year.

"I met him," Derrick confided.

"No way!" Cam laughed. "That's bullshit."

"It's the truth!" Derrick replied hotly. "I have a picture and a signed poster in my bedroom! I even met David Beckham and Ronaldo Lima."

Before Cam could respond with _more_ disbelief, a large black car rolled up in the school's driveway. The tinted window rolled down and seated in the backseat was the most intense man Cam had ever seen. And even though the man dressed entirely in black in a fancy business suit and dark sunglasses, much like his own father sometimes, this man's face was set in harsh lines and a stern frown. He was intimidating.

"That's my ride," Derrick announced. "See you later."

A uniformed chauffer got out and opened the door for Derrick. Derrick slid in and greeted his father, but the car didn't pull away just yet. Instead, Cam watched with considerable interest as they chatted through the open window. Derrick's dad pointed a finger at Cam while the chauffer left the car idling. A second later, Derrick turned back around to face Cam.

"My dad wants to know if you need a ride home!" he called.

Cam pushed to his feet in embarrassment as all eyes landed on him. He wasn't used to all the attention. "No, it's okay! My parents should be on their way!" he yelled back, but Derrick's dad gestured him over with a hand. Cam walked over with just a little bit of hesitation. He was pretty scary.

"It's almost seven. Who's coming to get you?" Derrick's dad asked gruffly. Cam looked up at the sky in surprise, only noticing just now that it was getting dark.

"Probably my mom," Cam answered.

"Well, it's too late for you to wait by yourself. Who's your mother?"

"Ella Fisher."

The man paused for a beat. "Ah—Cameron Fisher. You're Matthew Fisher's boy. Isn't that right?"

"Yeah," Cam replied in surprise, wondering how this man knew his parents.

Derrick's dad answered his unspoken question. "I know your family very well. Your dad's side, anyway. I'm Chase Harrington. Don't you live on Cedar Walk?" Cam nodded and he continued, "That's very close to us on Oak Lane. Get over here. Let's call your parents to see if they're on their way." Chase reached for the car phone without preamble. Within minutes, he was connected to the Fisher residence. He discovered from one of the Fisher maids that Ella had jetted off to Europe on an unexpected shopping spree and that Matthew was stuck at a work with an auto emergency. He nodded and instructed the maid, "Tell Matthew that Chase Harrington will be sending Cameron home tonight."

And again, before Cam could really process it, he was sitting inside Derrick's dad's new Bentley, sandwiched next to Derrick as the car pulled out of the school's driveway.

"Did you know your mother was going away?" Chase asked, already engrossed back in his work papers.

"No, but she does that a lot," Cam answered softly in embarrassment.

Chase harrumphed, shuffling his papers before sliding them back into his briefcase. He pulled out another stack and muttered under his breath, "That Ella. Completely irresponsible. What on Earth your father ever saw in a _Hartman_ I'll never understand." He glanced up at the two boys and nodded with approval. "Well, this is a good coincidence then. I'm glad you and Derrick are friends at least."

"We just met," Derrick interjected, turning red with embarrassment.

"Don't be rude, son," Chase scolded. "Cameron is your classmate and we've known his family for a long time. Of _course_ you two are friends." He turned to Cam and smiled slightly. It freaked Cam out even more, though he had enough manners ingrained in him to hide it. "Derrick has made so few friends since returning from France. He's been very lonely; I'll call your father to arrange for you the two of you to play together."

Derrick and Cam sat there together, completely mortified, yet oddly _relived _too… each in their own ways.

Derrick was surprised by how friendly his normally disapproving father was being toward Cam, especially since he had forbidden any guests or friends at their estate. He had recently tried to invite another boy from Briarwood over after a soccer match, but had been crushed when his father told him sternly, "Son, we can't have just _anyone_ over, you know. We need to know what type of family they are first. I've instructed you before, Derrick; you need to be careful with what sort of people you associate with." Derrick was excited to finally have his father's seal of approval.

And as for Cam… Cam was just glad to be getting a ride home before it got dark again. He was also extremely excited to find that he was going to discover if Derrick really had signed photographs and posters of famous soccer players in his bedroom.

It was the start of their friendship.

##

The warm sea breeze and salty spray ruffled Claire's blonde hair as they sped toward Massie's family's island resort in a sleek white speedboat. The water was an impossibly blinding turquoise blue and it almost hurt to look at for too long, but Claire just couldn't help herself. The sight was unbelievable, clear water pressing in on them on all sides with only tiny islands in the distance. The speedboat was traveling at high-speed and soon, they were approaching an island spotted with balmy palm trees and adorable small thatch roof villas.

William Block's island resort was nothing like the luxury five star hotels she had seen advertised on television, but Claire could tell that it was devised as the ultimate retreat for relaxation. With nothing but calm waters surrounding them for miles around, it was a personal and private island aimed at getting away. It consisted of twenty wooden villas extending out over the deck into the shallow waters and coral reefs.

As the speedboat pulled up to a stop at the tropical pier deck, a line of workers in matching uniforms stood at strict attention, holding trays of more mimosas. Massie was helped off the boat first; she greeted her father's crew happily.

When the rest of the girls were all assembled on the pier, Massie raised her glass and smiled brightly at them. "Welcome to Tiamo Island Resort! My father wanted to create a special paradise where you can relax and enjoy the love of nature and beauty. This island is ours, and I hope you guys enjoy it with me this weekend."

Massie toasted and group and everyone downed their mimosas in excitement. Claire took a small sip if hers, already full from snacking on the plane. Massie placed her glass back on the tray and clapped her hands. "Okay, first off, I've arranged a shopping spree at the resorts botique. As a gift from me, each of you can pick out five new items. To make it a challenge, because we don't want to miss cocktails at sunset, you each have only twenty minutes! Grab whatever you can before the stores close!"

Before Massie had even finished her speech, there were already excited squeals as the girls dashed down the pier toward the island boutique. Claire followed at a slower pace and when she finally entered the store, it was a mess of frenzied shoppers vying to outdo each other with the most fashionable pieces. The normally calm wood polished floors were scattered with high heeled shoes and sandals, the racks of clothing were disrupted as hangers were haphazardly returned, and girls were everywhere, skipping from table to table.

Claire watched as Livvy Collins wrestled with another girl for a top. "Let go, Carrie! This is a size small, as if you'll ever fit your new boobs into this!"

Massie sat perched on a counter, snacking on strawberries from a Baccarat glass bowl held by an attendant and savoring the chaos. She took pride in adding more tension to the game by calling out the remaining time at one-minute intervals. Claire approached a table near her and marveled at the detailed work on the beaded jewelry. This was exactly something she would have loved to buy at a market.

"Ugh, this is horrible, Massie. Who the heck are all these no-named designers?" Liz Goldman called out.

"_Excuse_ me?" Massie dropped a strawberry pit into another bowl proffered by her attendant and raised her brows. "What do you mean no name? This is all Balmain, Alexis Mabille, Lavin, and rising stars. These are hot picks from the top designers this year."

Liz sniffed, flipping through a rack of Hervé Léger dresses in feigned disgust. She tossed her bright hair over her shoulder and smiled snidely. "Well, I only wear the _classics_. Chanel, Dior, and Prada."

"Well, tough luck," Massie replied, rolling her eyes. "If you're not interested in slumming it this weekend, you can go home. Would you like Ambra here to escort you off the island?"

Liz didn't respond.

Massie turned to Claire, who was closest, and confided with a scoff, "_New money_. They think throwing on something Dior makes them hot shit, but all it really advertises is _tacky_." She shook her head and accepted another strawberry. It was obvious she didn't even see Liz as the same level as her no matter the slight. She wasn't even offended. To Massie, Liz was the water that comes out of the ketchup bottle; Claire could see that plainly in her blazé attitude. She gestured at her attendant and the worker turned and offered Claire the bowl of strawberries.

She accepted, sliding closer as Massie leaned down and whispered, "I first met Liz through this meet-and-greet for this merge at my dad's company. Her dad was only just showing up on the market, so my dad made me invite her to my annual sleepover. Liz wet my sleeping bag and never lived it down. She chopped off all her hair and wore crocs for the rest of the year."

Claire glanced back at where Liz was dropping Charlotte Olympia pumps on the ground in retaliation. Her light tresses were golden, thick, and glossy. It was easily her best feature, so it was hard to picture. She confided in Massie so.

Massie smiled. "Well, my father finally decided to give them a break and merged with their company. My family practically made hers. That's why she's here, by the way. Family business, you know how it is. But the moment that first check came in, Liz got herself new cheekbones, signature extensions, and a wardrobe. All Dior and Chanel, like you heard. You wouldn't believe how fast she transformed." Massie glanced at her watch. "Speaking of—you should be shopping! Time's running out."

Claire continued browsing the store and she started to understand what Massie was saying. None of the clothing had designer labels on them, but they were still elegant, yet classy. And when Claire lifted a sleeve of a top from someone called Peachoo + Krejberg to check the price tag, her eyes widened at the cost. _1,800 dollars_. That was practically two months rent for her back in Chicago! She swallowed, feeling lightheaded that Massie was giving away five articles of clothing that could pay practically pay for her living.

Claire approached another rack of sundresses, untouched by the other girls, since there were no labels visible. Claire definitely understood the reason of understated wear. Everything on this rack was so simple, yet intricately detailed. She found a white linen blouse with tiny ruffles and a summer sundress made of the lightest silk she had ever felt.

Hidden behind another rack of shoes, pursuing the jeweled bracelets, Claire could hear two girls chattering away.

"…Seriously though, where did she get those pants? But it's nothing new. You can't expect new money to have any style."

"Actually, Alicia told me she isn't new money at all! She's a nobody from Chicago."

"I knew it! She has the same desperate look that all my servants have."

There were cackles and Claire forced herself not to interject, to protest, to reveal herself. She stayed silent, frozen in shock at the cattiness of these girls.

"You just wait though, with all that Fisher money; she's going to upgrade pretty fucking fast."

"We'll see… All the money in the world can't buy you class, if you're not _born_ with it."

The girls moved away, heading to the fitting rooms, and Claire was left with her burning thoughts. Claire was one hundred percent sure she was classier than those two girls _combined_. For one, she didn't talk shit about people, ever. She also never judged anyone on what they wore or what they looked like. Were these girls really so insecure they had to pick at every little thing about her?

She rolled her eyes, only to have them caught on a pair of soft felt espadrilles, perfect for the beach and a perfect match for her blouse. She picked them up just as Massie called, "Times up! The boutique is closed!"

The girls were heading out toward the beach, as she walked past, Massie smirked. "How'd it go?"

"Chaos," Claire replied instantly.

Massie smirked wider. "That's what makes shopping so much fun!"

Claire giggled, though she couldn't see how fighting over shirts and yelling shrilly at each other constituted as fun.

"What'd you get?" Massie asked, peeking at her shopping bag. Claire held it open for her perusal. "You have good taste. That silk dress is done by this designer that hand-paints all his dresses."

At those words, Claire remembered faintly that Olivia had been wearing a dress similar to this at the country club. She felt a bitter taste in her mouth, but she adored the simplicity of the dress too much. Now that she was thinking about it, she wondered distantly why Olivia wasn't invited. She smiled and said, "They're lovely. Everything in your store is so unique. You were right. All of this is like nothing like I've ever seen."

With the shopping spree over and the girls headed for more cocktails, Claire decided to take a breather on the beach. She walked down the pier and sat on the deck, her feet dipping into the cool ocean water. It was so shallow; her feet were touching the soft white sand. She dug her toes in and closed her eyes at the feeling.

She could hardly believe that she was on an island in the middle of the Bahamas. She had never once imagined that she would be someplace like this. Not even for her honeymoon—but now she was thrown into this world where trips like this were apparently the _norm_. It was hard to believe. Claire suddenly missed Cam so much. He had tossed her straight into this luxe lifestyle and wasn't even here to anchor her in. She dug into her pant pockets and fished out her cell phone.

But as part of the tranquil and peaceful environment of the island, there was no cell service.

Claire clicked her screen off and turned back to the ocean view with a sigh. If the girls were at a serene paradise, what were the boys up to for their party?

##

"NIGGAS IN MONTE CARLOOOOOOOO!" Kemp shouted into the sky, throwing his arms up in the air the moment they disembarked from his private jet. Hiking his bag over his shoulder, Cam snorted at the sight of five bright matching gold limousines waiting for them on the tarmac.

"Jesus, don't tell me we're actually riding in one of those," Dempsey Solomon asked in disgust at the sight.

"Oh this is just typical Kemp," Cam explained with a smile. He wondered what the altruistic safari-going Demspey made of the sight of Kemp Hurley in his pinstripe bright orange and blue suit, yellow dress pants, and mint green ascot and matching loafers. As the only son of Sebastian and Teresa Hurley, Kemp was famed in New York's society for his party animal lifestyle and 'brave and bold statements' in fashion. He annually hosted the wildest parties and the latest jet set resort in fashion this season, always with the hippest DJ's, the finest drinks, the hottest babes, and the best drugs. But as someone who had known him since childhood, Cam wasn't all that impressed. Or shocked.

"Kemp! I can't believe we had to fly in your old tin can. Your Falcon 900 had a climb time for a complete game of Monopoly. We should have taken my new Boeing!" Yuri Butterman (of Butterman Finances) complained.

"My dad's waiting for the new 7X to release into the market, and then you can kiss my ass, Ass!" Kemp retorted, without turning around.

Geoff Michaels (of Michaels Electronics) chimed in, "Nah, the Gulfstreams are the new shit. My dad's new G550 has the best range, a 12 cabin floor plan, and living areas with three temperature zones."

"Are you assholes done comparing the size of your dicks?" Josh Hotz cut in. "Because I'd like to hit the casinos sometime today."

The group piled into the limos, Cam wearily. He was praying that Derrick's bachelor weekend would go smoothly without a hitch. Derrick had been on edge all week, with the stress of the wedding and reception. Heading to the gambling capital of Europe with a group of testosterone and whiskey fueled guys sounded like a recipe for disaster to Cam.

And if this was going to be anything like their Spring Break in Cabo, it _would_ be.

"This isn't exactly the high school reunion I was expecting," Dempsey murmured under his breath as he slid in next to Cam.

Cam eyed the lineup of guys that happened to be in the limo with them. Trust fund brats and preppy pretentious WASPs were definitely more Kemp's crowd than Derrick's. To be honest, Cam was pretty sure other than their old soccer team, Derrick didn't personally know anyone here. Cam curled his hands into fists. Of course, Kemp, the ass, _would_ use Derrick's bachelor party as an excuse to host another boast worthy party extravaganza.

He wondered how much their parents would be willing to pay to get them out of the papers this time.

As the stream of limos rolled along the coastal highway of France toward Monte Carlo, the luxury gambling capital of Europe, landscapes of brightly lit hotels, casino, and nightlife became visible off the cliffs Alps extending over the beautiful French Riviera. The colors of the buildings pulsated in the late afternoon summer haze.

"Like Vegas, only without the heat and with an ocean view," Cam murmured out loud. He eyed the row of yachts and sailboats in the many piers and the distant twentieth century buildings and houses. Claire would have loved this place, her photography instincts would be having a field day. He wondered distantly if Claire would be interested in cutting part of their New York vacation a bit short to sail down part of France instead.

"Vegas is the kiddy pool, Cammy," Kemp called out, overhearing him. "This is where the _real_ high rollers come to play."

##

The opulent lobby of the Hôtel de Paris featured a painted-glass dome skylight, a massive central bouquet that commanded attention, and legendary nineteenth century monuments. Cam sprawled out on a lush couch next to Josh, who was snickering in amusement, as they watched Kemp have one of the famous bitch fits he was known all around the world for.

"What the fuck! My family has been VIP members here for years. I booked the most expensive suite in this hotel _over_ a week ago. How is it not ready?" Kemp raged at the refined manager behind the front desk.

"We apologize profusely, Mr. Hurley," the manager answered contritely. "Checkout time for the Winston Churchill suite is 3 o' clock, so the current guests have not vacated as of yet. The moment they do, our staff will have it cleaned and serviced for you as soon as possible."

Kemp fumed and raged as guests entering and exiting the lobby unabashedly watched with wide and eager eyes at the spectacle. The manager never once broke face though. He didn't want to do anything to jeopardize business from the Hurley family. Kemp was such a brilliant loser that their casinos gained millions every time he stayed there. "Most of the other suites for your party are available. Please allow me to escort your party upstairs with complimentary bottles of your favorite Dom Perignon."

"As if I'm going to dirty my Bogettas at those rat holes. I want the penthouse or nothing."

"Why don't we head to the casino first?" Derrick interjected calmly. He was leaning against the counter and accepting room keys for their party from another worker. "It's what we were planning on doing anyway, man."

"Fine," Kemp conceded finally. He turned to the manager with another demand. "But we want the best private VIP only tables."

"Of course," the manager replied deftly, typing speedily on his computer. "Our most exclusive salons are always available for you, Mr. Hurley."

At that moment, Chris Plovert strolled into the lobby, looking haggard. "Plovert! Glad you found us," Derrick greeted heartily. Cam and Josh stood to greet him too.

"Yeah, it wasn't a problem. I know Monaco like the back of my hand. Stacy loves yachting down here. We come here all the time."

"Stacy, huh?" Cam asked, after a back slapping hug. It was the first time he'd seen Chris in years. He had heard about the wedding, but couldn't attend, on route to Chicago at the time.

"Yeah… She's _amazing_. You'll meet her next week. I'm bringing her to the wedding."

"Pussy whipped," Kemp coughed into his hand. Chris punched him, not really offended at all, but Cam rolled his eyes. How was it actually possible that Kemp hadn't matured one bit since they were in elementary school together?

"Well, I can't wait to meet the girl who stole the heartbreaker's heart," Cam laughed. Chris had the good looks and charisma that made him a player with a trail of broken hearts back in high school and then college. Of many notable relationships, Deena Geyser, a girl from OCD, had been so famously obsessed, she attempted to overdose on Advil just to get his attention after their breakup.

"Hey, I heard you brought your girlfriend to Westchester."

"Wow, word travels fast," Cam commented wryly as they headed out toward the casino across the street. It wasn't dark yet, but already the lights for the entrances were on, skylights waving. The sprawling world-famous Monte Carlo Casino glowed blue and purple in the dimness. Derrick crossed the lush pattern carpet and headed over to a Baccarat card table.

"Derrick, the VIP rooms are this way," Kemp called, trying to steer their group over to the rooms for high class patrons.

"Five dollar poker is the best though," Cam argued, not really interested in playing high stakes gambling either.

"We're moguls now, man! I created that whole scene back there at the hotel with the manager _just_ so that we could score the best room. Why would you want to play here with all these smelly Europeans?" Kemp asked, genuinely disgusted.

"How about we play a couple of rounds here and then we'll head to the room, okay?" Derrick sighed.

"We'll join you," Chris told Derrick, sliding into an empty seat. Josh did the same after a beat.

Kemp sniffed. "Well then, I'll meet you guys there. I can't play at these kiddy tables. I only get hard when I'm betting at least fifty thousand a hand. Who's with me?" Most of Kemp's new money crew headed off with him, with the exception of Dempsey and them. Derrick dropped his face in his hands, pressed his eyes shut, and rubbed his temples.

The dealer began expertly started to flick out cards, professionally ignoring the spectacle. Cam, on the other hand, fumed. Kemp was such a dick. Why did he expect anything different? He should have pushed for a relaxing bachelor party at Derrick's vacation home harder instead. He wondered how he was going to get through this weekend.

##

* * *

**Author's Note**: FUN FACT – The penthouse diamond suite at the Hotel de Paris is 15,513.59 dollars… a night. Excuse me while I go cry in envy because there is no way in the world I will ever be able to witness that type of luxury in my lifetime. You guys can search up the hotel in Google Image, it's gorgeous. Also, any private island resort for a look at Claire's party too.

_Review if you like?_


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